


Corona Australis

by Flyorine



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Developing Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:14:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 88,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21961945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flyorine/pseuds/Flyorine
Summary: Yaz’s life takes a sharp turn when she’s chosen to marry Gallifrey’s new Lord-President. Hoping to escape her fate, she sneaks into a repair shop where a mysterious stranger helps her fly a TARDIS.How will Yaz cope when her escape fails, and her partner in crime turns out to be the woman she’s supposed to marry?—-Or, arranged marriage AU
Relationships: The Doctor/Yasmin Khan, Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Comments: 701
Kudos: 747





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, it’s me again :-D 
> 
> Chapter 1 is a repost of chapter 11 in my last work (Constellation, it’s where I post my one-shots). If you’ve already read it, feel free to skip to chapter 2. I didn’t change anything important.

A book.

Three hundred, seventy-five sheets of paper, held together by a thin binding and cradled in rough, black leather. She can still feel the texture of golden characters under her fingertips, if she concentrates.

That book is what put Yasmin Khan in enough trouble to spend the rest of her life in prison, if she gets caught.

Not that she intends on getting caught, not when a long hallway and a locked door is all that stands between her and freedom.

Whispering a countdown in the dark, she holds her breath when a shadow passes across the nook she's hiding in, - a narrow closet full of strange tools - screwing her eyes shut.

According to her own scouting, the guard will patrol the corridor for the next ten minutes, before returning upstairs to the main part of the repair shop. That's when Yaz will strike.

With a stifled sigh, she drops her head against the stone wall. The ten minutes of uninterrupted silence she abruptly finds herself in makes the churning of her stomach returns, when memories she failed to push away emerge from a dark corner of her brain.

"Not now."

The whisper echoes loudly in the empty hallway. Yaz's eyes grow wide with worry, as she presses the side of her head against the closet’s door. Hearing no sound coming from the other side, she blows out a controlled breath, rubbing her temples and cursing her own lack of self-control.

For someone who prides herself with her level-headed responses to stressful situations, the emotional turmoil of the last few days tipped her whole world out of balance.

Losing every certainty she had about her life left a bitter taste in Yaz's mouth, the lone tear sliding down her cheek a sad reminder of her sinking prospects of a normal future.

Everything began with a family dinner, eight days ago...

_"They know." Hakim says, pale face and trembling fingers gripping a piece of paper. He falls down into a chair, burying his head into his hands as Najia slowly approaches him._

_"What happened?" She asks, gently. The haunted shadow in her husband's gaze brings back a dreadful burden on her own shoulders, a weight she spent so many years fighting. Ignoring the ominous hunch crushing her chest, she sits on the opposite side of the table._

_"They know. About our daughters." He breathes out a panicked gasp, crunching the sheet in his fist. "They left this for me, at work."_

_Najia pries his fist open, before scanning the handwritten message on the crumpled paper, the air slowly seeping out of the room as words sink in. "H... I don't understand."_

_"They want one of them." He whispers, and Yaz only catches his reply thanks to the heavy silence sneaking in every corner of the family house. "They're giving us tomorrow to say goodbye, and I have to take one of the children with me to work the next day. If I do it, they'll leave the rest of us alone."_

_"Why?" Najia breathes out. "Yaz and Sonya are too old for the military, I thought we were done with this. I thought our family was safe."_

_"You know we're getting a new president." The older woman's confused frown echoes Yaz's thoughts, prompting a bitter smile from Hakim. "He's not married."_

_"Wait, wh..."_

_Najia's violent protest buries Yaz's low attempt to cut into the discussion._

_"I'm not letting one of my daughters ruin her life by getting married to a stranger." Najia shakes her head. "I knew the risks when we decided to go against the laws, but I'm... No. It's not happening."_

_Yaz blinks, wetting her bottom lip with the tip of her tongue. Despite her limited grasp of the law, she always knew it allows one son and one daughter to each Gallifreyan family. Any other children has to be sent away to military training on the eve of their twelfth birthday, with the army's dire need for reinforcement since the quick succession of wars started._

_Clinching her hands around the edge of her sleeves, Yaz slowly realizes her parents were never granted the legal exemption they claimed to have. She pushes away a burst of fear - tinted with a hint of anger - forcefully considering the impossible choice her mum and dad need to make._

_"I'll do it." The words tumble out of her mouth, drawing a sharp glare from both of Yaz's parents. "Sonya is twenty, I'm twenty-three. I should be the one wh..."_

_"Stop." Hakim shakes his head, gulping. "You're not going anywhere, there has to be a way to keep both of you safe."_

_"Your father is right, we're not l..."_

_"It's a good offer." Yaz states, vaguely wondering how she can be thinking so rationally. "On any other day, you would both be going to prison, and Sonya and I would be leaving for army training. I don't want to fight in a war."_

_"Yaz, no." Najia argues, fiery determination igniting her words. "I'm not losing either of you." She turns to her husband. "Can we leave? Run away?"_

_"Yes." Hakim pauses. "That's a good idea, we have a day before they realize we won't be acce..."_

_"To go where?" Yaz interrupts. "To the DryLands? It's the only place they won't look for us, and I don't want to live in the middle of a desert. Sonya would die." She adds, with a strained chuckle._

_Najia's shoulders sag as she glances down at the table, willing away droplets of water blurring her vision. Hakim is in a similar state of despair, leaving Yaz to hold the shattered pieces of their peaceful family life._

_"It's just a marriage." She says, weakly. "I can still come visit you, and Sonya." Sparing a thankful thought for her sister's week long trip to the Capitol with her work mates, Yaz continues. "And we have tomorrow."_

_When two resigned gazes raise, shining with compassionate anguish, Yaz feels a weight drop in her stomach._

_The next day is a blur, a mix of tearful reassurances, encouragement, and affectionate memories, ending with a book pressed in her hands by her father, once they arrive to his workplace and she sees two uniformed women patiently waiting for her._

_Eyes flitting between Hakim's solemn features and the object in her hands, Yaz finds herself caught in a crushing hug, hurried words whispered against her ear._

_"I want you to have a choice." Heart racing, the younger woman scans the black cover._ Mechanics of the Type 50 TARDIS. 

_"What am I supposed to d..."_

_"They will take you to the Capitol. There's a little repair shop." His voice speeds when he notices one of the guards approaching them. "I wrote down the address in the cover. I don't think there will be much surveillance, if you go at night." Cupping his daughter's cheek, he presses their foreheads together. "This book is your way out. Don't let anyone see it."_

Yaz remembers nodding numbly, gentle but firm hands gripping her shoulders and backing her away from Hakim's embrace. The image of his mustered up smile and teary brown eyes is her last memory of him.

The next seven days were spent traveling in stubborn silence, until they reached a castle where Yaz was locked into comfortable quarters.

Her new living space includes a bedroom, adjourned bathroom, and a balcony bigger than her family home. Her only company has been an older man who brought her food, but possessed very little information about her situation, leaving her a little more frustrated with each visit.

Today's lunch came with news, a long parchment detailing the coronation of Gallifrey's newest Lord-president.

Yaz had to force herself to breathe, knowing enough about Time Lord protocol to remember presidential weddings happen the days after the coronation.

A brief bout of panic - and a frustrated thought for the man she's supposed to marry, who still hasn't taken the time to meet his future wife - reminded her of the book hidden under her mattress.

Yaz skimmed through Hakim's scrawled message, she spent the afternoon scouting the repair shop, spotting the fleet of ships tucked into the basement. Sprinting back to her room before she could be reporter missing, she ate her evening meal while trying to memorize the chapter about piloting a time ship.

When the usual guard knocked on her door to take away the leftover food, Yaz pretended to be asleep, smiling as he made his way out of the room with a whispered, useless apology.

The climb down from her window left her with bruised wrist and a twisted ankle, but Yaz managed to make her way back to the shop once the suns set.

A fading pattern of leather thumping against stone interrupts Yaz's wander through her memories. She raises her head to see the shop worker's shadow disappear back up the stairs. Ignoring her heart pounding through her ears, she pulls open the door of the closet and peers across the hallway. Empty.

Her eyes crinkling with a smile, Yaz dashes through the narrow space, jumps over scattered objects on the ground and freezes in front of a heavy, black door. She fumbles for the pin tucked against her ear, making quick work of the lock and slipping through the threshold.

When she hears the click of a lock sliding back into place behind her, Yaz turns to examine the room.

And she finds herself facing a pair of stunned, emerald eyes.

***************

_"It's barbaric." The Doctor sighs, twirling the last sip of amber liquid around her glass. "And cruel, and primitive, and sav..."_

_"I get it." The Mistress rolls her eyes, sighing. "You don't need to list every synonym of the word barbaric you can think of."_

_The Doctor's answering scowl earns her another sigh._

_"What's wrong with you? You might get to marry a beautiful woman, and do something about all the laws you always complain about." She shrugs, smirking. "Even if she's ugly, you can just ignore her for the rest of your lives, and rule Gal..."_

_"It's the principle of it!" The Doctor exclaims, reaching for the forgotten bottle of wine and scrunching her nose when Missy slips it away from her grasp._

_When her friend stares at her with a raised eyebrow, The Doctor relents and lets her hand falls back against the table._

 _"I don't mind giving my life to help Gallifrey. Someone has to stop all the wars." She whispers the last part, thoughts drifting to the planet's twisted political situation. "But nobody else should be forced to sacrifice their future. I know what I'm getting into. This woman doesn't."_

_"Rassilon." Missy swears under her breath, frowning at the woman on the other side of the table. "Have you always been such a martyr?"_

_"I don't know, have you always been such a self-centered game player?"_

_Silence lingers as they glare at each other, before the corner of Missy's lips twitch upwards. "Yes." She raises her glass, downing the last sip. "And you know it."_

_The Doctor hums, conceding the point._

_"You could always step down." Missy shrugs, reaching to fidget with the bracelet adorning her friend's wrist since the coronation ceremony held earlier._

_"How's that going to help?" The blond objects. "If I step down, the General will take my place, and the wedding will still happen. She's only going to be free if the president disappe..." A sudden spark brightens shadowed hazel eyes, drawing a confused shake of Missy's head._

_"What do you mean, disappear? Do you want to die? Because I can help with that, and there's a perfectly good window that I can push you fr..."_

_"Shut up." The Doctor rolls her eyes. "I was just thinking. Run me through our alliance with Dacoma again?"_

_Missy's piercing stare finds the Doctor's as she ignores the question. The blond woman's fingers are tapping a distracted rhythm against the edge of her glass, her eyes shifting around the room. She sighs. The Doctor doesn't 'just think', and she wonders what scatterbrained, self sacrificing plan her friend came up with._

_"Missy?"_

_"Doctor." She fires back, and their gazes meet in a split second of mutual understanding. "You know, you could just listen in High Council's meetings, and I wouldn't have to catch you up with our allies."_

_"Are you done complaining about me?"_

The Doctor sighs remembering Missy's snicker, a sound of genuine amusement that registered in her brain once she realized it was the last evening they would spend together. 

Her oldest friend and their genuine, if troubled, relationship might be the only thing she will miss about Gallifrey. The prospect of forcing an innocent woman into a life of politics, stuffy protocol and impossible decisions makes her stomach churn. 

So, the Doctor will leave. Hop on a TARDIS, run away from the stiffening planet and become a renegade. Her coronation as Lord-President means she will wear the title until she either steps down or dies, leaving the Council unable to simply replace her. 

Without a leader, the other members will have to rule as a single entity, effectively binding their hands. 

Day-to-day administration of Gallifrey will fall to the General, as will most of the mundane decisions. But official declaration of wars, or history-altering choices require unanimity, which she knows Time Lords can never obtain. They're too power-hungry, too stubborn to even consider a compromise. 

The heavy burden of responsibility wearing her down since the Lord-President bracelet was clasped around her wrist lightens, as she dips her head, crossing path with another woman strolling through the dark streets of the Capitol. 

The members of the High Council have too much pride to let her get away, the Doctor acknowledges. Sentinels will be sent after her over the next few days.

She grins to herself. In order to kill her, they'd have to find her, and she intends on traveling to the furthest corner of the universe, where no one will know her identity. 

The plan starts here, in a little repair shop nestled in an alley of Gallifrey's most important city. Ducking further into the hood of her coat, she pushes against the door and smiles at the man standing behind the counter.

"Jack."

"Doctor!" He grins back. "Trouble sleeping again?" 

"Yep. Is it all right if I take a look at the fleet?" 

"You're the President now." He shrugs. "You'll have to find another hobby at some point." 

"Hm. Not tonight." She steps passed him, as he chuckles. 

Walking around the counter, she slips through another door left ajar, jogs down a short set of stairs and inhales sharply when she finds herself facing rows of broken TARDISes. Her fingers itch for the familiar weight of her tools, and she fights the urge to take a closer look at a long boat parked in a corner. 

Slowly, she circles the room and gauges the state of each ship. The Doctor frowns, making a conscious effort to look through the fleet with her escape plan in mind, not as a mechanic looking for a challenge. 

The slow updating process of the oldest models leaves her with a wide variety of choices and she tilts her head in deep concentration. 

Drifting towards the back of the shop, she falters when she catches a glimpse of a dark blue box. 

With a gasp, she rights herself and follows the magnetic pull tugging at her hearts. There's an odd lump in her throat as her fingers find the back of the Type 40 TARDIS, all smooth wood and sharp corners. She makes her way to the front, reading the sign on the door with a breathless chuckle. 

"You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." She whispers reverently, before stepping back to take in the entirety of the ship. 

When she stumbles into the room's wall, she flinches, suddenly aware of another presence next to her, breath heavy and heartbeat racing. The Doctor blinks, glancing to the side. 

And she finds herself facing a pair of stunned, brown eyes. 

***************

The Doctor gasps, snapping out of the dazed shock first. "Who are you? You're not supposed to be here." She whispers, through gritted teeth. 

"Because you are?" Yaz fires back, voice raising on the last word. 

"No." She shakes her head. "I mean, yes! Yes, I am. I... work here." 

Yaz snickers. "You're a Time Lord. Have you ever worked anywhere?" Pausing, she ponders her own words. "Or Time Lady, I don't know which one you pref..."

"Either is fine." The Doctor shrugs, raising an eyebrow at the surprisingly considerate question. Yaz notices. 

"What? You're ruining my escape plan, it doesn't mean I want to offend you." 

"Wait, you're running away too?" 

Yaz opens and closes her mouth, grasping for an answer. "Wh... What do you mean, running away _too_?" 

"Come on." The Doctor ignores the question, sizing Yaz's wrist and tugging forwards. "We're taking that one." She states, pulling the door of the police box she was admiring earlier. 

"We... Are?" The younger woman repeats, finding herself yanked into the TARDIS. 

The ship's interior leaves them both breathless. 

Yaz understood the concept of a TARDIS. She learnt about engineered dimensions, time travel and sentient matrix. Yet, there's something about this dimly lighted room, mix of warm colors and textures, and the mint-green columns scattered around the narrow space, that draws an awed gasp from her lungs. "Wow." 

"I really like it." The Doctor smiles, stepping across the two steps as she takes in the console, hands on her hips. "Ready?" 

The question abruptly pulls Yaz out of her dreamy observation. "Wait, hold on. I'm in charge here." She declares, squaring her shoulders in an attempt to sound more confident. The Doctor regards her with an unreadable expression, shrugging. 

"All right." 

"I was here first. You just showed up and I'm not comfor... " Yaz deflates once the other woman's answer sinks in. "Wait, really?" 

"Sure." The Time Lord repeats, motioning to the controls with the hint of a smirk. "Guessing you know how to drive her then." 

Yaz pads closer, frowning when she realizes the design is not even close to the one in the book her dad gave her. "That..." She gulps, uncertain. "It's not a Type 50 TARDIS."

"Nope. Type 40, hasn't been updated yet." Glancing down, she takes in the display. "Probably won't be. Huge mileage, the Artron energy carburetor needs changing, couple of wires to tighten up, and I'm not sure we can rely on the readings at all. The Chameleon Circuit is broken too." 

A loud whir interrupts the inspection, drawing the Doctor's hands up. "All right, no shouting. You need some work, is all I'm saying." 

The blond turns her attention back to Yaz, expectantly. "So, where are we going?" She asks, the corner of her mouth twitching. " _When_ are we going? What about the recall circuit, do you have a plan for th..." 

"Fine." Yaz snaps. "You can drive. But I'm still in charge." The last muttered words turn the Doctor's smile more sincere. 

"Of course." She approves, already sauntering around the console. 

A couple of flicked switches later, she checks on Yaz who's drifting around the room, fingers reverently ghosting along the walls. "Might want to hold on." 

The warning comes too late and the dark haired woman falls across the platform when the ship abruptly takes off. The entire room trembles, before the chaos somewhat settles, a welcomed pause that allows Yaz to scramble up and sprint to the closest column, wrapping her arms around it. "I hate you." 

The Doctor glances over her shoulder, grinning before she reaches for another lever. 

Once the ship stabilizes in flight, Yaz pries one arm away from her improvised anchor. Tentatively putting one feet in front of the other, she lets go and approaches the console. 

The Doctor's fingertips travel across cold metal, her eyes growing wide as she takes in the variety of controls under her hands. Yaz watches her curious exploration for a second, before she breaks the silence. 

"We left." She whispers, the dread twirling into her stomach fading, for the first time since she left her family home. "I'm... We really left." 

"We did." The Doctor nods, eyebrows pinched at the startling, lone tear sliding down Yaz's cheek. "Is it... Are you all right?" 

A sure hand scrubs the tear away. "Yes." Yaz's automatic, cold answer pulls at the Time Lord's hearts, intimately familiar with the reflex of denying potential weaknesses. "I'm fine. Where are you taking us?" 

"We're just drifting through the Time Vortex for now." She explains softly, running through a mental list of steps she has to complete while getting more comfortable with the design of the TARDIS. 

"So, what brought you to a repair shop in the Capitol?" The Doctor asks absentmindedly, considering her options to deactivate the recall circuit as she rummages through her coat for her Sonic screwdriver. 

"They were going to force me to get married." The dark haired woman breathes out, empty gaze staring at her feet. "I had to run." 

The Doctor freezes, hand halfway out of her inner pocket. "W... What?" 

"To the President." Yaz sniffles. "The new one. Do you know him?" 

The blond opens her mouth, words slipping out of her grasp as her brain scrambles to gather her thoughts. 

Yaz shakes her head, dismissing her own question. "Never mind. You don't know all the Time Lords, that was stupid. Sorry." 

Hands splayed against the TARDIS' metallic panels, she fights a pang of longing for her family. "What's your name?" Yaz prompts, a poor attempt to distract herself. 

"N..." The Doctor stutters, still reeling from the realization that the woman she ran away to protect followed her. "What?" 

"Name?" Yaz hesitates, dropping a hand against the blond’s forearm "You do have one, yes?" 

"The Doctor." 

Rolling her eyes, the younger woman sighs. "Why can't any of you choose a normal name?" 

"What? Doctor is a perfectly good na..." She objects, snapped out of her daze by the quip. 

"Sure." Yaz shrugs. "Until someone gets sick - or injured - and ask for your help, and you have to tell them that you're not _really_ a doctor." 

"Rude." She frowns. "I'm not making fun of your name." 

"You don't _know_ my name." 

"Good point." When silence lingers, and Yaz only smiles, the Doctor sighs in exasperation. "Well? Share with the class." 

"Yaz." Eyes glazing over, Yaz shakes her head. "Yasmin Khan. My mom chose it, for her aunt." 

"Well, Yasmin Khan." The Doctor hesitates, nerves fluttering in her stomach. "There's something I need to tell y..."

Her reply is cut short when the ship comes to a scratching halt, tossing them both across the room. 

The Doctor lands first, grunting when her back hits the edge of a step as she wraps her arms around the shorter woman, making sure Yaz lands on her chest, instead of hitting the hard floor. 

"That was not fun." 

Confused, Yaz shakes her head and rolls off the Doctor's body. "It feels like we stopped. What happened?" 

Before she can answer, the Time Lord flinches with the sound of a bell blaring. She finds her feet and dashes back to the center of the room. 

"What's that?" Yaz screams, to be heard over the chaos shaking the TARDIS. 

"No idea." The Doctor circles the console, hands jumping from one handle to the other. "I'm not used to these systems, it's diff..." She interrupts herself when she catches sight of a bright green light flashing, right next to the telepathic interface. 

"It's the recall circuit." 

***************

"The recall, what?" Yaz frowns. 

"It's a built-in system." The Doctor explains, running back and forth in an attempt to counter the pull on the ship. "Someone is trying to bring us back." 

Yaz bites her lip, struggling to get a flare of pure panic under control. Returning to Gallifrey means spending the rest of her life in prison, her family left to a similar fate if the book now tucked into her leather jacket is ever discovered. The tang of blood in her mouth springs Yaz into action, as she hurries to the console. 

"Can I help?" 

The Doctor glances to the side, their eyes meeting in mutual understanding. With a swift nod, she slips off her coat and hands it to Yaz, one hand still gripping a lever that looks like a wheel. "Inside pocket. Get my Sonic." 

"Your what?" 

"Looks like a flashlight to you." 

Yaz finds the inner compartment and blinks as she takes out a deck of cards, a bag of jelly babies, a rock and a crayon, before her fingers hit steel. "How do you fit all that into your po..."

"I'll explain later." The Doctor grinds her teeth together, putting all her weight against the force trying to move the controller in her hands. "On the floor, there's a trap-door. Open it." 

Yaz scans the ground, falling to her hands and knees as she spots a few screws locking down a small door. She frowns, pulling at them until the Doctor's breathless chuckle interrupts her efforts. 

"Use the Sonic. Blunt end against the ground, and push the button." 

Following the instructions, Yaz's eyes grow wide when the nails leap off the floor, leaving the trap loose in her hands. She throws the piece of metal and sticks her head down in the narrow opening. "Now what?" 

"There should be wires." 

Yaz twists her shoulders around, frowning when she spots the many bundles of wires covering the space. Carefully, she gets back to her knees. "Yeah." Her voice raises, trying to be heard over the multiple alarms now echoing around the TARDIS. "There are a lot of wires in there, Doctor." 

The other woman gives a half panicked look from across the central column. "You're looking for red ones. Does that help?" She asks, swearing under her breath as her grip on the wheel loosens. Fighting off the pull of Gallifrey's recall circuit requires every bit of the Doctor’s concentration, as she adjusts to the magnetic grasp it has on the TARDIS. 

"Sure." Yaz mutters sarcastically, peering through the trap again. "Narrows it down to only fifty wires." With a sigh, she replies louder. "Not really." 

Hanging her head between her shoulders, the blond's eyelids flutter as she blows out a long breath. 

"I could cut all the red wires." Yaz suggests, catching the Doctor’s reaction from the corner of her eyes. 

"I'm so sorry." The Time Lord whispers, before she straightens her back and faces her companion. 

"Not unless you want to kill us." 

Sitting back on her knees, Yaz gulps through the cold fear tightening her throat. She stands, wiping clammy palms against her trousers as she trips her way back to the Doctor, who's struggling to hold a time turner steady. 

"I don't know which wires to cut." She states. 

"I know." The Doctor closes her eyes, hearing the mirrored resignation in Yaz's voice. 

"And I can't drive her." 

The blond nods quietly, shifting her hands lower to grip a purple lever, pressing against the force that tries to pull it up. 

"You can't do both." Yaz concludes, earning another grim nod.

"Yeah." 

With a sharp intake of breath, Yaz circles the Doctor's wrist, gently coaxing her hand open with a soft pressure at the bottom of her palm. 

The effect is immediate, sending the TARDIS into a tumble that would have thrown Yaz to the other side of the room without the steady, sudden grip around her waist, pining her against cold metal. 

Caught off-guard by the Time Lord's proximity, Yaz's breath hitches. Gulping, she settles shy hands over nearby shoulders, earning a weak grin as they wait for the ship to stabilize. 

***************

"So, they can't get in?" Yaz repeats, observing the doors from her seat on the lowest step. The Doctor joins her, sighing.

"They can't get in, but we can't take off. They've anchored us." She musters a sad smile. "Fancy moving into a TARDIS?" 

Yaz snickers. "With you? I don’t think so." She glances to the side. "It would be better than going out there though. They'll arrest me, right?" When the Doctor purses her lips instead of replying, her stomach drops. "Yeah. Well, at least the wedding is off." 

The Doctor's gaze snaps to hers, curious. "You'd rather go to prison than get married?" 

"To a _Time Lord_." There's a hint of open contempt in Yaz's words that makes the Doctor frown as she continues. "I don't want a husband who's going to control my life. At least I get to decide what I do in my cell." She inhales sharply, voice lowering. "I don't want a husband at all." 

"I'm a Time Lord." The Doctor points out, shrugging. She's running out of time to tell the other woman the truth, but the brutally honest conversation allows her precious insight into Yaz's thought process. 

"Yeah, well..." Trailing off, she bumps the Doctor's shoulder with her own. "You're all right. For one of them, I mean." 

"Thanks.” The blond tilts her head. "I think." Scrubbing a frustrated hand down her face, she lets her eyes fall to the floor. "Listen. Before we go out th..." 

A heavy knock against the door against the door interrupts the beginning of the Doctor’s confession, startling both women. They turn towards the entrance, attention captured by the ray of light shining through the narrow window. 

"Guess that's our cue. Thanks for trying." Yaz says, gloomy. 

Springing to her feet, Yaz reaches a hand down. The Doctor accepts the wordless offer, hauling herself up and stumbling forwards. The shift leaves them standing in each other’s space for a long, lingering moment, fingers linked together.

Shocked by the spark of genuine warmth brightening hazel eyes, Yaz’s voice turns wistful. "You know..." She starts, scrambling to end her own sentence. “I think we could be friends.” Ruefully, she reminds herself of the situation they’re caught into. “Maybe we’ll get thrown in the same prison.” 

The declaration pulls the Doctor off-balance again, as she struggles to make sense of the confusing hint of fondness in Yaz's tone. She manages to kick-start her brain mere seconds before the younger woman approaches the entrance. 

"Yaz, wai..." 

The late warning falls, useless. A hand reaches inside the TARDIS through the tiny gap Yaz already created, when she cracked the door open. She glances back, flinching as the solid grip fists into her shirt and yanks her out of the ship. 

Landing on her knees, Yaz groans when a shadow looming over her sticks its flashlight in her face, batting the hand away. 

A man - bald, old and clad in the ridiculous attire of Time Lords - steps out of the line of guards surrounding the blue box. "Size her." He instructs, before addressing Yaz. "We've been looking for you since you went missing, after dinner. How did you drive a TARDIS by yourself?" 

Yaz sniffles, stubbornly staring at the stranger while he continues. "You understand the deal with your family doesn't stand anymore. You've tried t..." 

"Honestly, you lot." A voice interrupts the man's threat, snapping the general attention towards the TARDIS, where the Doctor is leaning against the doorway, hands deep in her trousers' pockets. 

"You insist I get married, but you won't even let me take my future wife on a bonding trip before the wedding." 

The bald man blinks, gaze darting between the two women. 

The Doctor pads closer, narrowing her eyes. "General? Do you think you could tell your mates to stop treating Yaz like a prisoner." 

"Y... Who?" 

" _Her._ " The Doctor tilts her head, glaring until the man holding a flashlight switches it off and steps back into the line of soldiers. "Thank you." 

"You were with her." The General repeats, as he slowly pieces together the Doctor's version of events. "She didn't try to run away." 

"Nah." The blond grins. "Just wanted to talk for a bit. We’re getting married tomorrow." 

"Talk, in a flying TARDIS?" 

The Doctor raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Wanted to show off, I'm a great pilot. Didn't know the _Lord-President_ had to ask for permission before using a TARDIS." 

The not-too-subtle reminder of her new status snaps the General's jaw shut. "Of course. My apologies." He turns to Yaz, who's silently dragging herself up, observing the scene unfolding in front of her eyes as she struggles to keep a sharp feeling of betrayal under control. 

"You won't object if we escort you back to your room." The General’s statement doesn't leave much room to protest, and Yaz grinds her teeth together with a short not. 

"You can wait upstairs with your friends. Give us a moment." The Doctor cuts in, earning a scowl from the General before he sends the guards away with a wave of his hands. 

The crowd filling the space around the TARDIS lines up, the commanding officer leaving last with a long look towards both women. 

Once they’re left alone, quiet seconds tick by, before a voice coming from the far away corner of the room cuts through the tension.

"Did you notice how I didn't tell them you were with me all night?" The Doctor rolls her eyes when Missy's familiar silhouette strolls between ships, the woman throwing a heavy arm around her shoulders. 

"What do you want?" 

"Oh, you know. I just wanted to take a look at your future wife." Yaz flinches at the term, drawing the newcomer's attention. "Now, that's interesting. I guess you were right after all." 

Missy whispers in the Doctor’s ear, before leaning closer to the dark haired woman. "Hello, poppet. Do you have a name?" 

Yaz gulps, fidgeting under the odd woman's intense scrutiny. The Doctor brings up contrasting emotions in her head - mostly anger and disappointment, with the thinnest hint of persistent trust - but the stranger fits the image she always had of Time Lords. Creepy, power-hungry and condescending. 

When a stubborn silence is Missy's only answer, she grins. "Don't worry. We can get to know each other later." 

"What do you want?" The Doctor repeats, exasperation seeping through her voice as she tries to redirect Missy's attention. 

"Well, I got worried. I wanted to see if they would bring you back. I'd miss you, silly." 

The Doctor's eyebrows hitch with the exaggerated affection. "All right, what's wrong with y..." 

"I also wanted to tell you, I'll keep your little secret. But..." The taller woman trails off, lowering her voice. "You owe me." 

The Doctor grits her teeth against the shudder running up her back. Being indebted to someone as volatile as Missy is never good news. With a silent, grim nod, she acknowledges the point. The nonverbal confirmation seems to satisfy her friend, who leaves the room with a glowing grin. 

Silence falls again, a growing tension sneaking into the background, before the blond disturbs the uneasy truce. "I'm sorry." She whispers, failing to muster up the courage to face Yaz. "I never wanted to..." Sighing, the Doctor’s shoulders sag while her sentence hangs in the space between them, incomplete. 

"I trusted you." Yaz scowls, eyes glued to the police box. "And you knew who I was the whole time." 

“You hated the idea of me before you even knew who I was." The Doctor points out, throwing her hands in the air. "What did you want me to do?" 

"Tell me the truth" Yaz snaps, fierce determination lighting up her pupils. "Or am I supposed to apologize for hating the person I'm forced to marry?" 

"I..." The Doctor's short lived frustration deflates. "Of course not. I just.. I didn't know how to tell you." 

The poor explanation only fuels the anger throbbing into the dark haired woman's chest, propelling her forwards as her loud steps hit the pavement. 

"I was wrong." Yaz's tense voice states, as she makes her way up the stairs. "You're exactly like the other Time Lords." 

The Doctor runs a hand down her face, shaking off the deep sting Yaz's last words cut through her hearts. Her open palm hits the side of the TARDIS as she's left alone with her conflicting thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, since I’m a nerd here’s bits of background information, if you’re new to Doctor Who. 
> 
> Time Lords are Gallifreyans, but not every Gallifreyan is a Time Lord (some are humans!). 
> 
> The Capitol is the biggest city (the one in a dome of glass, if you google Gallifrey) and it’s also called the Citadel.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates should come twice a week, if I can get through a bit of writer’s block I’m fighting :-).

Yaz stands tall under the candlelight, willing her hands still as she waits for... 

Well, she isn't sure what she's waiting for. 

After being escorted back to her room the previous night, she was left alone until the first rays of sunlight pierced through her window. 

A hard knock against her door later, a new guard - young, with kind eyes and a genuine smile - brought her a bundle of odd clothes.

Toying with the string at the waist of her new trousers, Yaz regarded the dark red tunic with a mix of contempt and nervous anticipation. 

The rest of her day was spent reading through the book gifted by her dad until old, yellowed pages curled under her fingertips, tinted by a few stray tears. Yaz reigned in her emotions just in time to see the guard sticking his head through her bedroom’s doorway. 

"Are you ready?" 

Yaz shrugged, bare feet dragging against the floor. "I don't think I'll be ready anytime soon." 

She laced a pair of comfortable, worn out boots and led the way through a maze of corridors she memorized after her failed escape, her bodyguard in toe. 

"I'm Ryan." He offered, his voice the only disturbance in the eerily quiet Citadel. 

"Yaz." The short reply silenced him, before she forced a deep breath into her lungs, softening her tone. Ryan had nothing to do with the fate awaiting her, he was only doing his job. 

"Yasmin Khan. Have you worked here for long?" 

"A month." Ryan brightened, falling into steps. "I... Don't like it much." He continued tentatively, gauging her reaction. 

The dark haired woman snorted, catching his hesitation. "I won't be offended. This is the last place I want to be." 

"Wait." He frowned. "You don't want to marry the Lord-President." 

Yaz mirrored the expression, shaking her head. "I tried to run away yesterday." 

"I've heard rumors." Ryan's eyes grew wide, in a mix of shock and thinly veiled disapproval. "That you were kidnapped. But I didn't think it was true." He blinked. "What do you mean, run away?" 

"I tried to get a TARDIS and leave." 

"Leave... Gallifrey?" He grinned, impressed. "What happened?" 

Yaz sighed. "I ended up sharing a TARDIS with the Lord-President."

"You..." Ryan started, clamping his jaw shut in a poor attempt to muffle a burst of nervous laughter. "That's bad luck, mate." 

Rolling her eyes, Yaz blew a strand of hair falling across her nose. "Yeah." 

"She's nice though." He guided them down a flight of stairs, opening a side-door for Yaz to duck into. "You could do worse."

"Nice?" She repeated, dubious. "Time Lords are not nice." 

"I know." Ryan hummed, patting her back awkwardly. "But maybe you should give her a chance. I need to go, I'll fetch you when they're ready." 

***************

"How long am I supposed to stand here for?" Yaz wonders quietly, taking in the dying candles scattered on a low table, the golden tiled floor, and the wooden, carved door looming over her head. 

"Sorry." Ryan apologizes, entering the room. "Two more minutes." He approaches, fidgeting with the shoulder pad of his armor. "They ran out of seats." 

"Sea..." Yaz repeats, freezing. "Wait, is there a crowd?" 

"It's the new Lord-President's wedding." The guard frowns. "Weren't you expecting... Guests?" 

"I don't know, Ryan." Yaz snaps, grinding her teeth. "I don't know what to expect, because nobody is telling me anything. My parents were blackmailed into giving up one of their children, I thought I could run away - and I did - only to be brought back, threatened with prison and saved by the same woman who's trapping me here. I don't even know if I'll ever go home again. I'm sorry, if I didn't think of everything involved in this rubbish wedding." 

Blinking, Ryan scrambles to gather his thoughts. "Sorry." He murmurs, gaining a new respect for the woman he's been assigned to protect. "I didn't know." 

Anger draining out of her tense shoulders, Yaz inhales sharply. "It's not your fault. I'm j... I'm on edge." 

"Yeah." He mentally reviews the quick influx of information thrown at him, lowering his voice. "Listen. If you have questions, or if you want to try to leave Gallifrey again, tell me. I'll help." 

Slowing his words, Ryan narrows his eyes. "Or well, I'll try. We'll probably both end up in jail, but what's happening to you is not right." 

"Thank you." The unexpected support brings a small smile to Yaz's lips. "I'll let you know if I ever have a plan."

"Deal." He offers a fist bump, returned by the woman. Clearing his throat, Ryan crosses his arms and turns to face the door. 

"Why do they even have a wedding?" Yaz wonders out loud, clarifying her question after Ryan's confusion-filled stare. "Time Lords don't do emotions, why does the President have to be married?" 

Ryan snickers. "Because they don't do emotions. Know how everyone hates them?"

Yaz nods. 

"They know too. After the Civil War, they made an effort to look more... Normal." 

With a shrug, he tries to remember his history lessons from military training. "I forgot the details, but it involved interacting with humans and other Gallifreyans, that's when they opened the city's gates. The High Council decided a married president would be more sympathetic to the people. Most of their changes faded over time, but the wedding stuck." 

"Why?" 

Ryan glances to the side, the corner of his lip twitching. "Minimal effort? It only involves one Time Lord, the others can go back to playing mind games." 

Before Yaz can prod further, a low drum interrupts their conversation, beating a constant three-time rhythm. 

"All right, that's our cue. Just walk wit..."

"Wait, what's going to happen?" Yaz grips his elbow, a sudden flutter of nerves in the pit of her stomach. "I've never been to a wedding like this, we do hand-fastening where I'm from." Suddenly yearning for the simple, emotional ceremony she grew up witnessing, she gulps. 

"Oh, mate." Ryan shakes his head, smiling. "Don't worry, this is much easier. You have nothing to do. Stand next to the Doctor, wait until it's over, and try to stay awake."

***************

Ryan's advice makes sense once the ceremony starts, Yaz realizes, as droplets of sweat trickle down her neck. The stuffy atmosphere sneaking into every crack of the room lulls her into somnolence.

A man dressed in traditional Time Lord fashion speaks in a monotone voice, reading from a heavy volume resting on a wooden stand. 

The quick, mumbled Gallifreyan words pass through her brain, her rough grasp of the complicated language leaving her in a daze of detached indifference.

The Doctor has settled at Yaz’s side, after multiple attempts to catch her attention failed to drag a stubborn, brown stare away from the ground. 

Resisting the urge to yawn, the dark haired woman allows her eyes to wander, - again - noting the slumber-fighting crowd dressed in a wild variety of clothing. 

The room itself resembles a cathedral, with its arched ceiling, twin lines of marble pillars and rows of long, wooden tables. Sunlight filters through a colorful, carved window taking up most of the opposite wall. 

A sudden silence snaps Yaz back to the ceremony, breath hitching when she spots countless pairs of eyes aimed in her direction. Pursing her lips, she throws a hopeful side-glance to the blond on her left. 

Catching a glimpse of the woman’s attire for the first time, Yaz arches an eyebrow at the Doctor’s tunic. It’s similar to her own, in a deep, midnight blue color. A golden belt wrapped around her waist, ear-cuff shining at her ear and polished, brown boots complement the garnement. 

Yaz has to reluctantly admit the Time Lord looks good - not that she cares - in an effortless sort of way. 

"I can go first." The Doctor speaks up, when Yaz stays quiet in the charged silence. 

She nods quickly, watching the blond cup the back of her hand and fasten a thin bracelet around her wrist. The Doctor glances up into a dark, puzzled gaze, whispering a few words of Gallifreyan that draws another confused nod from Yaz, before she dips her head and presses her lips against her knuckles. 

Yaz's brain blanks when another uncomfortable silence stretches across the room, until she realizes she’s expected to return the gesture. Heart thumping, she grows restless under the weight of the crowd's attention, clicking her jaw shut. 

"Check your pockets."

The low whisper catches Yaz's ear, and she bristles. The Doctor's helpfulness only fuels the cold, stingy anger curled up in her chest whenever she's reminded of their doomed attempt to flee Gallifrey. Reluctantly, her unoccupied hand pats the side of her trousers. 

When she finds a golden band similar to the one wrapped around her wrist, Yaz's tense fingers grab the object. Locking it around the Doctor's arm, she keeps her touch swift and mechanical. A split-second of hesitation later, she mimics the other woman's action and kisses the back of her hand lightly.

The man officiating the ceremony interrupts Yaz's planned side-step, pressing her left palm to the Doctor's right. Eyes growing wide, she blinks when he raises their arms once, twice, and a third time before going back to his book. Yaz’s stomach flips once they settle back into their original position, joined hands hanging between them. 

"What are you doing?" Yaz murmurs as minutes pass, and a thumb repeatedly nudges against hers. 

"I'm bored." The Doctor complains under her breath. "We should have a thumb war."

Firmly pushing away a hint of amused sympathy, Yaz scowls. "I don't think so." She cuts the conversation short, carefully averting her gaze. 

From the corner of her eyes, she spots the blond's shoulders heaving with a long sigh and refuses to feel guilty.

***************

The boring ceremony turns into a lively feast, guests mingling with each other as Yaz observes from afar, yawning from her spot on one of the long table.

She downs the rest of her drink, throat parched after staying on her feet for an hour while a man married her against her will.

"So sorry, Yaz." Ryan pops up, struggling to catch his breath as he apologizes. "I forgot to tell you about the bracelet." 

"It's fine." She waves off, settling an elbow on the hard surface and refilling the goblet clenched into her hand. "Don't worry about it, it didn't matter." 

"Yeah, I saw. They were shocked when the Doctor went first." He motions to the crowd of Time Lords surrounding them, joining the dark haired woman on the bench. 

"Why?" Yaz wonders, intrigued. 

"Because the person going first ask the other one to judge them worthy." Ryan explains, hesitantly. "Didn't you listen? It was in the speech." 

"My Gallifreyan is rusty." Yaz mumbles over the edge of her cup, refusing to consider the heavy meaning underlining what she thought was a simple, polite gesture from the Doctor. 

"What do you mean?" 

Yaz jumps, splashing droplets of deep brown liquid over her shirt when the Doctor appears behind them. "Don't do tha..."

"What do you mean, your Gallifreyan is rusty?" The Doctor repeats, frown deepening. "You should have said something, I can translate for y..." 

"No, thanks. I don't need any more of them thinking I'm stupid." 

Ignoring the glare sent her way, the Doctor straddles the bench to face Yaz. "Nobody thinks you're stupid." She denies.

With a hitched, dubious eyebrow, the younger woman points to the crowd. "They do." 

"Did anyone say s..." 

“No.” Yaz cuts off, uneasy with the protective shadow darkening emerald irises. "They don't have to say anything. It’s how they look at me - or not look, I guess - it’s like I’m not even there. Which is fine with me.”

Scanning the room, she continues through a sip of her surprisingly tasty drink. “I don't think I've talked to anyone who wasn't you or Ry..." 

Yaz trails off, glancing to the other side to find the guard missing. "Ryan, since I got to the Citadel." 

The Doctor dips her head, swallowing through a burst of guilt squeezing her throat. "Sorry." She eyes the crowd warily. "I can introduce you t..." 

"I don't need your help." Yaz interrupts, sternly. "And I especially don't need to talk with more Time Lords." 

Blinking, the Doctor musters up a small smile. "We're really not all bad, you know." 

"Last time I thought that, I ended up on a TARDIS with the woman I was trying to run away from." She reminds the blond, with a sarcasm-dripping smile. 

"Yaz, I..."

"It's fine." She waves off. "Go mingle with your friends, we'll just keep avoiding each other." 

"How are we supposed to do that? We share a wing." The Doctor points out, confused. 

"We what?" Yaz growls, voice raising. 

"Share the Lord-President's quarters." 

"I'm not sleeping with you." She snaps, low voice filled with fiery determination. 

"Wh..." The Doctor's eyes grow wide. "That's not..." She opens and closes her mouth, struggling to piece a sentence together. "No!" 

The flustered objection tames Yaz's anger, allowing the Doctor to ramble further. "Not asking you to. It's a wing, we have about three bedrooms, a front room, a garden and a j..."

"Fine." She interjects, clearing her throat awkwardly. "That's fine." 

Yaz shuffles to the edge of her seat, attention glued to the empty mug laying in front of her. She's embarrassed by her own assumption as she squares her shoulders. "I'm sorry."

Running a hand down her face, the Doctor sighs. "It's not like we've given you many choices so far." Reaching out, she covers Yaz's forearm with tentative fingers. "Listen, it ends today. We're married now, and I'm the President, so..." She huffs, shrugging. "You can do anything you w..." 

"Can I leave?" Yaz interrupts, a sliver of hope coloring her words despite herself. Maybe they could have a long-distance marr...

"Yes and no. It's complicated." The Doctor sighs, taking back her hand and hanging her head between her shoulders. 

"Yeah." Snickering through a mix of bitterness, disappointment and sudden homesickness, Yaz inhales sharply. "I'm starting to understand that. Am I allowed to leave the room, at least?" 

"Of course, I can walk back with you. We should talk ab..." 

"Maybe later." Yaz smiles, tightly. "I'm sure Ryan can help me find the wing. Enjoy your evening."

***************

With a low groan, the Doctor hits her forehead against the table, once Yaz leaves the feast with Ryan hurrying in her footsteps. When a sharp thud explodes near her ear, she startles, willing herself still. 

"You, fool." 

The Time Lord frowns when she raises her eyes and spots the knife sticking out of the table, inches away from her face. "Did you just throw a knife at me?" 

"Yes. And I'm only sorry I missed your stupid head." Missy sinks into the bench on the opposite side, with an open glare. "What were you thinking?" 

"Broadly? That I need more wine. That I was glad you didn't show up. That we need a new wedding officer, the Monk is getting too old."

Hitting her palm against wood, Missy shifts closer. "Shut up. You know what I'm asking, why did you expose yourself like that? The Lord-President doesn't ask some random woman from Arcadia if she's worthy of marriage." 

"Well, one of us had to do it." The Doctor shrugs, reaching for an apple in the plate of food nearby. "Bet nobody thought it would be me." She grins, biting into the juicy fruit. 

"You do understand what's at stake." Missy lowers her voice, leaning forwards. 

The blond's careless smile fades as she gulps through her mouthful. "The High Council is not going to exile me because of a botched wedding." 

"There's a faction looking for any weakness on your part." She narrows her eyes, grabbing her knife back. "Don't give them one." 

The Doctor sighs, reluctantly acknowledging the argument. "Fine. I'll be careful." 

Missy's glare morphs into a disapproving shake of her head. "You won’t. You feel guilty." 

"Of course I feel guilty." The blond fidgets with her half eaten apple. "I ruined her life." 

"Sort it out." Missy whispers. "You get sloppy when you start thinking everything is your fault." 

"I don..."

"Yes, you do!" She snaps. 

"Since when do you care?" The Doctor mumbles, crossing her arms. 

"Since I'm tired of being constantly at war." She fires back, shoulders sagging. "And I'm scared..." Hesitating, Missy finds the Doctor's intrigued gaze. "We won't win them all, Doctor. Some wars are too big to be fought, even for Time Lords." 

The growing shadow lurking in her friend's eyes sends a shiver down her spine. "Missy, what do you know?" 

"Nothing specific yet. Just... Be careful." Holding the concerned stare directed at her, the dark haired woman clears her throat. "And you have nothing to feel guilty about, anyhow."

The tension broken, the Doctor sinks back against the bench. "What are you going on about? She's married to a stranger, and forced to live in the Citadel." She frowns, mumbling. "Would be enough to ruin _my_ life." 

Missy snickers. "She's the Lord-President's wife. She can go wherever she pleases, doesn't have to worry about our laws, and she moved into a castle. There are worse ways to live." 

"Maybe." The Doctor smiles, reluctantly. 

"She's pretty too." 

"She's _beautiful_." The words slip from the Doctor's lips before she can hold them back, snapping her jaw shut when she spots Missy's slow spreading smirk. "Stop objectifying my wife."

"Ugh." The other Time Lord gags. "I hate when you get protective over other people, makes me feel sick." 

"Aw, you're jealous." 

Rolling her eyes, Missy stands and scans the boisterous room. "Didn't you say something about more wine?" 

The Doctor joins her friend with a distracted grin, thoughts filled with images of Yaz's slumped shoulders and sarcastic smile, her brain reeling for a way to put together the pieces of their relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading and any sort of feedback is very appreciated :-D


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick warning: this is quite a lot shorter than what I usually post, mostly because series 12 premiere made me reconsider some things (check out the end note for more details, spoiler alert though). 
> 
> Hopefully this chapter is still good 😀

Toweling her hair dry, Yaz pads into her bedroom and sighs, going through the clothes-brimming closet at the side of the bed. 

Her own, practical belongings mingled with the glittery shirts, trousers and warm jackets she found the day after settling into her new living space. 

The few dresses that were thrown into the mix are now stuffed behind a shelf, with no regard for the shiny, rich material that grazed Yaz's fingertips. She refuses to dress up for people who are - essentially - keeping her prisoner. 

Holding on to the reassuring knowledge that she still has some control over her own life, Yaz decided to dutifully fight back against every requirement of her new position. 

Not that there has been many - surprisingly - since the day of the wedding, almost two weeks ago. A few invitations, and a man chasing her with a message for the Lord-President were the only tasks she had to dodge. 

In fact, she spends most of her days in the Citadel's library. Ryan's granddad is in charge of the place, allowing her to hide away until the sun sets, and the natural lighting fades too much for Yaz to decipher words on pages. 

Sharing her evening meals with Graham and his grandson is the bright spot of her days. The mix of tasty, home-cooked meals and the men's playful banter reminds her of countless dinner with her own family. 

She leaves Ryan with his granddad at night, to go on long hikes that turn her legs shaky and her eyelids heavy, almost fluttering shut on their own. Dragging herself back to the Lord-President's quarters doesn't seem so daunting when she's half-asleep and in no state to hold a conversation.

Not that there's someone to have a conversation with. The Doctor spends most of her time away from her quarters as well - at least as far as Yaz can tell - even if there has been a few close-calls where they almost ran into each other.

Droplets of water pooling at her feet, Yaz snaps out of her musings and slips into trousers and a warm jumper, throwing a jacket over her shoulders. The first rays of sunlight peek through her window, turning her movements clumsy as she tries to scurry out of the wing. 

Determined to avoid another near encounter, she laces her boots, spares a grateful thought for the kitchen staff when she grabs the daily cup of tea waiting for her in the front room and quietly closes the door behind her back. 

She misses the resigned hazel eyes tracking her movements from the threshold of the Doctor's room. 

***************

"You do understand the whole point of you being married." Missy points out, glaring at the empty seat at her friend's side. "I know you've never been the smartest, but I'm sure you have a few brain cells in working condit..."

"Shut up." The Doctor scowls, sinking lower into her chair as she watches guards prepare the room for public audiences. "I won’t drag her here against her will." 

"Did you even ask her? Maybe your wife would enjoy talking with little people from MidTown. Might remind her of her boring family." 

"I'd have to see her for that." The shorter Time Lord grumbles, running a tired hand down her face. "Can you stop insulting Gallifreyans? We're trying to improve our relationsh..."

"No, I can't." Missy cuts off, eyebrows pinched. "What do you mean, see her?"

"We're avoiding each other." She replies, fidgeting with a couple of dices forgotten in her coat's pocket.

Between an emerald shifty gaze and the bags under the Doctor's eyes, Missy blows out a noisy breath. "No, you mean she's avoiding you." 

The quick denial at the tip of the Doctor's tongue fades with Missy's single, hitched eyebrow. "Fine. She's avoiding me. Happy now?" 

"I'll be happy when she's holding audiences with us. If I can spend hours listening to people whine about our laws, and our schools, and our transportation system, so can some random woman from Arcadia."

"Why do you care?" 

Missy's eyes harden. "If rumors that your own wife hates you start spreading around, you're done. We're done. Because you know who's next in the line of succession." 

"Not you, thank Rassilon."

A quick hand buries itself in the lapels of her coat, yanking the Doctor in her friend's space. 

"Is this a joke to you?" Missy growls, fingers tightening in the black material. "You talk to her, before she can undermine your authority more than she already has. Or I will." 

"You won't. Leave Yaz alone." 

Nose to nose, the sudden spark shining through serious, green-brown eyes shakes Missy's determination. "Or what?" She taunts. 

Before the Doctor can answer, a shy voice interrupts the confrontation. "Doctor? We're ready to start, if y..." 

"Of course." She nods, still holding Missy's stare. "Open the doors." The hand in her coat flattens, allowing the blond to shift back into her seat. She lowers her voice, glaring. "I'm in charge here. I suggest you remember that." 

A quiet snicker is the Mistress' only reply, as they both turn their attention towards the line of Gallifreyans seeking an audience with the Lord-President and her consort. 

***************

Muffling a yawn against the palm of her hand, Yaz fumbles with her key, clumsily slipping through the doors as she toes her muddy boots off. A cold, stubborn drizzle cut her run short, forcing her back indoor before she could exhaust every bit of energy running through her body. 

Tiptoeing around the front room, she throws her dripping jacket on a nearby table. 

"You're back early." 

When a Northern accent-colored voice interrupts her poor attempt to sneak into her bedroom unnoticed, Yaz jumps, startled. 

"Do you have to do that? Normal people don't scare each other every time they meet." 

The Doctor blinks from her spot on the sofa. "Not my fault if you don't notice I'm here." She shrugs. 

"Right." Rolling her eyes, Yaz turns to face the other woman and squares her shoulders. "What do you want? I was heading to bed." 

"Erm." The Time Lord bites her lip, swallowing through a sudden burst of nerve. "Can we talk?" 

"No, we can't." She shuts down, backing closer to the shelter granted by her bedroom. "Good ni..."

"Please." The hint of genuine anxiety catches Yaz's ear, her feet faltering. "I just want to apologize." 

"You're forgiven. Can I go now?" The dark haired woman tries to escape again, ignoring a foreign pull in her chest. 

"Yaz." 

Clearing her throat, she sighs. The anger brewing in her heart roars, useless against the soft edge in the Doctor's voice. Her features scowled in a neutral expression, Yaz pads closer, sinking into the armchair opposite the sofa. 

The fireplace warming the room crinkles in time with raindrops hitting the window, the only noises disturbing the charged silence in the room. Meeting the Doctor's gaze, Yaz crosses her arms. "Fine. Talk." 

"Right." Eyes growing wide in surprise, the blond straightens her back and shuffles to the edge of the couch. She clasps her hands together, nodding to herself. "You have every right to be angry." 

"Do I?" Yaz snaps, pursing her lips. 

"I should have told you the truth. I know that." The Doctor lowers her voice. "And I'm very sorry." 

Biting back a first, acerbic reply, Yaz cautiously considers the other woman's words. "Why didn't you?" 

"I was in shock at first, and we had to fight against the recall circuit." She starts, remembering the night they met. "And then..."

Yaz frowns. "Then we were brought back to Gallifrey, and we had an entire conversation about you. Didn't you think maybe I deserved to know who you were?" 

"Yes!" The Doctor sighs, scrubbing a hand down her face. "Yes, I did. But you said we could be friends." With a shaky smile, she dips her head and forces herself to meet Yaz's gaze. "I liked it. And I knew you would hate me, if I said anything." 

Clinching her teeth together, the younger woman looks away from the sincere, lonely shadow swirling through hazel irises. "If that's your only exc..."

"Not an excuse." The Doctor corrects, inhaling sharply. "It's an apology. I was selfish, and I should have told you. I'm sorry." Clicking her jaw shut, she pauses as the quiet reply lands heavily in the space between them. 

The explanation soothes weeks-old worries, the honest conviction in the Doctor's voice forcing Yaz to admit the Time Lord didn't manipulate her - or worse, sabotage her attempt to escape - purposefully. 

Yaz briefly wonders why the blond tried to leave the planet she's in charge of, genuine curiosity peeking at the edge of her thoughts. The feeling loosens the knot of cold anger nestled in her chest, leaving behind a pang of emptiness that startles her. 

Shaken, Yaz steels herself and holds on to the fading, bitter resentment she's been stewing into. "I'm glad that's sorted." She blurts out. "Can we keep avoiding each other now?" 

The Doctor blinks, caught off-guard by the sharp turnaround. "What? I thought we w..."

"You thought what? We were going to make friends and live happily ever after?" 

"Well, n..." 

"Because we're not." Yaz trudges forwards, despite the hint of guilt that comes with the Doctor's eyes lowering to the floor. "I appreciate the apology, but you stole my future from me. That's not something we can move on from." 

The conversation slipping away from her grasp, the Doctor shakes her head. "I'm not expecting you to forget..." She hesitates, with a long sigh. "I understand what we did to you. Would you just..." Throwing her hands in the air, she pleads. "Consider working with me?" 

An arched, doubtful eyebrow is Yaz's only response. 

"We don't even have to talk to each other." The Time Lord continues, pushing away the sad disappointment trying to seep through her voice. "You'd just have to sit through public audiences a few times every week, and mayb..."

"And what?" Yaz interrupts, glaring. "Act like your wife? Because that's all I am now. The Lord-President's wife." She adds, the title dripping with sarcasm. 

"That's not tr..."

"It is." The Doctor's attempt to argue draws a bout of cold laughter. "I tried to send a message back home today, know what happened?" 

Pursing her lips, the Time Lord silently shakes her head. 

"They told me to ask for your permission first. I can't even write to my own family without you." 

"They shouldn't have done that, I'll..."

"Do what?" Yaz taunts, snapping. " _Tell them_ I'm allowed to do what I want." 

"Well, yes." The Doctor starts, pleading eyes trying to catch Yaz's. "I can help you! If you could trust me t..."

"I don't want - or need - your help." Yaz growls, standing and pacing across the front room. "I want to leave. Go home, and pretend my life is still my own. Can you help with that?" 

Not waiting for a reply, she continues. "Of course not. So, no. I'm not going to act as your wife in some rubbish audiences."

The shocked silence that answers her outburst leaves Yaz's shoulders heaving. "We're going to continue to ignore each other's existence, and maybe I'll stop hating you someday." 

Turning on her heels, she storms to her bedroom and slams the door. She falls headfirst into her pillows, screwing her eyes shut with the waves of conflicting emotions charging through her mind. 

"Not now." She whispers, grabbing a nearby cushion and shoving it over her head, basking in the muffled silence seeping through her skull. 

"That went well." The Doctor sighs, tipping her head back against the sofa. She closes her eyes, fighting a blossoming headache as she tries to figure out where to go from there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s my dilemma. I enjoyed Spyfall, the episode was cool. But my inspiration got crushed by almost every character choice they made. (Especially how they portrayed the new Master, no matter how brilliant the actor was.). I’m struggling to continue writing. 
> 
> I’ll try to push through it, but it’s the first time something like this happens after an episode airs. If anyone has advice, please leave a comment or hit me up on Tumblr. I’m all ears 😣


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not sure how many people read the notes, but I wrote an update on what I said last week/what I’m going through, because you were all so supportive. I cried a little. I put it in the end note though, so it’s easier to skip. 
> 
> Meanwhile, enjoy the next chapter :-D

Slowly emerging from light slumber, Yaz's eyes are still closed when she lets out a long, heavy sigh. 

Dragging herself out of the warm shelter of fluffy blankets, she rubs her palm against her forehead as she slips into the adjoined bathroom. A quick shower later, she's rooted to a spot in front of her closet, regarding her clothes with a disgruntled gaze. 

The simple act of getting ready grows more irritating every morning, as days crawl by. There's nothing to look forwards to, despite Ryan's best efforts to involve her in life around the Citadel. Yaz wants nothing to do with Time Lords, she's happy to observe them from afar and return the unhappy contempt aimed towards her. 

Her once satisfying life, filled with a happy family, an active job and strong friendships, seems like a distant memory as she slides into black jeans and a white, long sleeved shirt. The memory of Najia, Hakim and Sonya hits her with a pang of longing. She can't communicate with any of them, still caught in a stalemate with the man in charge of communication.

Stalemate is the perfect word to describe her whole life at the moment, realizes Yaz with a frustrated huff. 

Padding through the front room, she freezes when she finds the Doctor standing in the kitchen corner, whistling kettle in her hands as she prepares two mugs of tea. 

"What are you doing?" 

The words slip out of Yaz’s mouth, watching with a satisfied smirk when the other woman startles. 

"Tea." She glances over her shoulder. "You're up late." 

"What do you mean, tea?" Yaz frowns, ignoring the comment. "Where's the kitchen staff?" 

"The what?" The Doctor blinks, pouring the boiling water into cups. "We don't have a kitchen staff. The old president did, but I..." She frowns. "Do you want one?" 

"Wait, what?" Scrambling, Yaz's eyes drift to the low table where a mug of hot tea awaits her every morning. "Who's been making me tea?" 

"Me." The Doctor shrugs, casually. "Already make a cuppa for myself every morning, I thought..."

"You thought wrong." Yaz cuts off, bitterly. She ignores the shadow of guilt permeating her somber mood when the Doctor turns to face her with shocked hurt. "Why would you do something nice for me?" 

"Well, you're my wi..." 

"Shut up." Yaz growls, taping into the flame of fiery, persistent anger that settled tight in her chest. 

The Doctor sighs, leaning back against the counter as her eyes turn wistful. "I'm sorry you were caught into our politics. But we are married, Yaz. Why won't you let me h..."

Guessing the end of the question, Yaz interrupts again. "The last thing I want is your help. How many times do I have to say it, before you'll listen?" 

"I'm a bit stubborn." The Doctor offers, mustering a shaky smile with her attempt to defuse the escalating tone of Yaz's voice. 

"Do you know how you can help?" The rhetorical question tugs at the Time Lord's heartstrings, with its cold, detached undertone. 

"Tell me." 

"If you can't ignore me, stop being so bloody nice." Yaz's voice lowers, her gaze holding the Doctor's with a hint of open, taunting challenge. "You want us to talk, fine. We can fight as much as you want." 

Seconds tick by, Yaz's anger burning through her stomach as the Doctor slowly wets her lips. "Don't think I can do that." 

"Why not?" The younger woman snaps, caught off-guard by the sudden shift in the other woman's attitude. The resigned guilt that colored her hazel eyes fades away, replaced by a silent apology. 

"Because..." The word turns into a long, blown out breath. "I'm sorry." Swallowing through the exhausted wariness tightening her throat, the Doctor shakes her head. "Wish I could help you." 

"Why can't you?" Yaz repeats, hashing out the question. She freezes at the dejected smile thrown in her direction. 

"I'm fighting a war every minute I spend outside these doors." The Doctor motions to the entrance, eyes glazing over. "I have to push away every instinct I have, to be Lord-President. Fighting you too..." She inhales sharply. "I can't. Sorry." 

Shaken by the touch of honest, open vulnerability in the Doctor's answer, Yaz steels herself. She squares her shoulders, clearing her throat. 

"Fine. We'll just keep ignoring each other then." Slipping into the forgotten pair of boots in her hands, she storms out of the room, muttering to herself. 

"Have a good day." The Doctor sighs, once the door slams shut.

***************

"What's wrong?" Missy drawls, entering the room to find the Doctor with her head buried in her hands, sitting on the Lord-President's chair as she waits for audiences to begin.

"Nothing."

The muffled answer earns her an exasperated eye roll from the older woman. 

"You look as worn out as I feel when one of the little people starts complaining about Time Lords." Falling into her own seat, she pokes her friend's shoulder with her index. "What's wrong?" 

The repeated questions draws the Doctor's head up. "Am I not allowed to be tired without being interrogated?"

Meeting an exasperated gaze, Missy holds her stare as seconds tick by. She huffs when she catches a glimpse of genuine exhaustion shining through hazel pupils. "It's that woman again, isn't it?" 

The Doctor's split second of hesitation sends Missy into a flurry of angry words. "She's bringing out the sentimental idiot in you, I hate it. You can't afford to be distracted" 

"We just.." The denial turns into a long sigh. "Had a fight." 

"Know what? I'll kill her." Missy mumbles, the pieces of a rough plan already assembling in her mind. "She'll be dead, you can get a new, boring wife and w..."

"Don't." The sharp edge in the Doctor's warning catches the dark haired woman's attention. 

"Why not? She's supposed to help with your job, not turn you into... This." Missy complains, pointing to the blond's tousled hair, tight features and restless boot hitting the tiled floor. "You're a mess." 

"Thank you. Can always count on you to make me feel better." The Doctor deadpans, eyes shining with fierce determination. "If you touch her, you'll have to deal with me." 

"Aw, Doctor. Is that a death threat?" She smirks. "You haven't flirted with me in so long, I've been lonely." 

The Doctor reluctantly shakes her head, her thoughts clicking together with the absurd, familiar banter she trades with her oldest friend. "I hate you." She mumbles, scowling. 

"Hm. You feel better though." 

"Maybe." Scrunching her nose, the Time Lord reluctantly confirms. "But you leave Yaz alone." 

A mock salute as her only reply, Missy redirects the conversation. "Have you heard from the General? He has new information from the recognition team." 

Arching an eyebrow, the Doctor shakes her head as the other woman shares news that makes her stomach drops.

***************

"I don't know." Ryan frowns. "A cuppa is a wild thing to fight over, but I get it. You're angry because you're stuck here."

"Exactly." Yaz nods. "I just want her to ignore me, am I asking for too much?" 

"Hm." He hums, tilting his head. "I don't know. You're flatmates." The reminder comes from the opposite side of table, Ryan gulping through a mouthful of soup. 

"Do you think I could move out?" Yaz wonders, with a sudden, slow grin. 

"Erm." He hesitates, glancing to his granddad who's busy making his way through a sandwich. "I don't know." 

Graham catches on when silence lingers, gaze darting between his unexpected lunch companions. "Sorry, what?" 

"Can I move out?" Yaz repeats, hopeful. 

The older man's eyes grow wide. "You're the Lord-President's wife." 

"Really, Graham?" She frowns, scowling while Ryan elbows his granddad. 

"It's not about what you're allowed to do on your own." He trudges through the complaints. "It's about her public image."

"I don't understand." Yaz blinks. "What do _I_ have to do with anything?" _I'm fighting a war every minute I spend outside these doors._ Shoving the memory out of her head, she tunes back into Graham's explanation. 

"If people catches on that you hate her, rumors will spread fast. There has to be something wrong with someone, if their own spouse can't stand them." 

"Why should I care?" 

"I get where you're coming from, cockle." Graham smiles, gently. "Really. But compared to any of our recent Presidents, I think the Doc can be amazing, if she has time to prove herself. You need to keep quiet, just for a bit." 

Sighing, Yaz toys with the leftover soup in her bowl. "Yeah. Just for a bit." She repeats, missing the open glare Ryan throws to a shrugging Graham. "All right, thanks for lunch. I'll see you later." 

Ryan scrambles to his feet, before Yaz raises a hand. "It's fine, I'm just walking back to the library. I think I'm safe." He inhales, ready to object, before she insists. "Really. I need to be on my own, you can take the rest of the day off." 

When Graham steps on his boot purposefully, Ryan gives a tight smile. "If you're sure. See you tomorrow?" 

"Bright and early." She confirms, squaring her shoulders and starting the trek back to the library that's nestled in a high tower. 

Feet dragging on the dusty path spiraling through the streets of the Capitol, Yaz dips her head into the hood of her jacket to avoid the scattered groups of Time Lords heading in the same direction. Longing for the lively, loud atmosphere of her hometown, she blinks away tears slowly gathering at the corners of her eyes. 

With her mind lost far away - somewhere between public fairs and Christmas festivals - Yaz never notices the arm reaching for her throat, slamming her body back against a solid wall as a palm shifts to her lips and fingers hit her temple. 

A pair of dark eyes is the last thing her brain registers, before she passes out.

***************

The sharp pain blossoming in her skull drags Yaz out of unconsciousness with a low groan.

"Oh, you're awake." 

A voice chimes in, as the dark haired woman flops to her back, noticing the cold, metallic floor under her body. 

"Thought I killed you, for a minute. Oops." 

Fingers pressing against her own temples, Yaz sits up. The room around her spins, a mess of white, grey and artificial, blinding light. 

"Well, come on. How long are you going to lay there?" 

Forcing a deep breath into her lungs, Yaz closes her eyes and counts down from ten. When her eyelids flutter open again, she takes in the platform raised on a wooden stand and the familiar sight of a console under a Time rotor. 

"It's a TARDIS." Yaz whispers, tracking down the source of the voice to a woman standing near the door, clad in a dark blue dress and flowery hat. 

"Yep." Missy drawls, raising her arms. "Grew it myself. Do you like it?" 

"You..." Inhaling sharply, Yaz scrambles to her feet, wrapping her arms around her midsection protectively. "You're the Doctor's friend." 

The woman bristles, unhappy. "Don't you know my name?" 

Despite her jumbled thoughts, Yaz painfully recalls their first encounter in the repair shop, minutes after being forced back to Gallifrey. "Missy. You're Missy." 

"At your service." She tips her hat with a flourish, smirking. "Not really though, don't get any ideas." 

"What do you want?" Yaz sighs, faltering back when Missy prowls closer, squeezing her arm around the younger woman's shoulders. 

"We're going on a bonding trip!" She exclaims, before lowering her voice. "How exciting." 

"Exciting for who?" Yaz argues, as she's dragged out of the TARDIS.

***************

Stumbling away from the door, Yaz rights herself and inches away from Missy, jumping when a projectile hits her shin. She looks down, blinking in confusion at the paint dripping from her trousers, over her left knee.

"What's g..."

"Careful!" The warning draws Yaz's head up in time to see a small child sprint down a mountain, loose her balance and tumble until she lands on her back. Before she can rush to the little girl, another one emerges from the side and grabs her friend's arm, tugging her behind a nearby rock. 

"They're not part of the game, leave them alone." 

Yaz jumps when a foreign, low pitched voice shouts from behind her ear. A flurry of giggle later, the two children run back up the hill and disappear from view. 

"What was that abo..." Yaz trails off, when she turns on her heels and finds herself facing a bald man she recognizes. "General." She greets, pursing her lips. 

The man ignores her, eyes flying over her head to interrogate Missy. "Why are you here?"

"You know I love watching children fight each oth..."

The General interrupts, gruffly. "Why are you here _with her_?" He clarifies, with a pointed look towards the younger woman. 

"Cheers, mate." Yaz mumbles, rolling her eyes. 

Missy shrugs. "Well, we're sisters now. We're getting to know each other." 

Flinching at the statement, Yaz forces a frozen smile on her lips under the man's tense scrutiny. 

"Sisters?" He repeats, pulling a face. 

"She's married to my oldest friend. How would you call that?" 

"I'm still here." Yaz complains, keeping her voice low. 

"I need to speak to the War Chief." The General frowns, in slow, horrified realization. "He's not allowed to get married, I'll kill him. I don’t need a brother, what w..." 

His voice disappears into the distance as he strolls passed Missy's TARDIS, leaving the two women alone with a sudden group of children assembled around them. 

With a long sigh, Missy points to the tallest one - a girl, whose flushed face pops up over the crowd - snarling. "You. Get them away from me, before I decide to eat a child for lunch." 

The girl and a clumsy boy take charge, ushering the group up the mountain until Yaz loses sight of them. Once they're gone, she's alone with Missy in the middle of a clearing bordered by tall, paint-littered pine trees. 

Frowning at the vibrant colors splattered in the middle of a forest, she turns a questioning gaze to the Time Lord. "What is this?"

"The screaming children are from Low Town." 

Yaz's lips part on the beginning of another question at the mention of Gallifrey's poorest city, before Missy continues. "The General holds war games every week. He gives them guns, and paint ammo, and they recreate battles."

"Why?" 

"It's mostly battles we lost. He tries to improve our strategies, see what went wrong." Missy explains, with a deepening frown. 

"Couldn't he ask the army to do that?" Yaz shakes her head, confused. 

Missy sighs, exasperated. "Of course he could." 

Yaz blinks, caught off-guard. "I don't understand. Why is he using children?" 

"Because they enjoy it!" Missy snaps, narrowing her eyes as she circles the younger woman. 

"You really think we're heartless monsters." She states, tilting her head once she's facing Yaz. "Fascinating." 

Silence lingers, both women holding the other's gaze with stubborn determination, until Missy's lips twitch with a slow spreading smirk. "Maybe it's time I prove you right. Come on, back to the TARDIS. You'll enjoy the next stop." Her voice lowers, a new glint in her eyes. "Or not."

***************

Head peeking from the ship's entrance, Yaz frowns when the new destination takes them underground.

A string of neon hung on the high, rocky ceiling brightens the cave enough to show a deep valley full of construction workers, their yellow helmets shining under the artificial light.

The crew puts together wires, panels of metal and wooden planks in a jumbled mess that reminds Yaz of railroads, the construction stretching as far as she can see. 

The TARDIS landed behind the woman in charge, who's barking orders from a high platform overlooking the construction site. Clad in a black, billowing coat and a fedora, she crosses her arms as workers hurry to fix a faulty wire. 

"What's that?" Yaz wonders out loud, drawing icy grey eyes to her face as the woman spins around. 

"Who are you?" 

"My new pet." Missy interrupts, firmly grasping Yaz's wrist to yank her to her side, covering her mouth with the opposing hand. "Sorry, not done with training yet." 

The woman's gaze racks over Yaz's body, shaking her head with barely disguised contempt. "Don't know why you lot feel the need to mingle. Time Lords should stay away from Gallifreyans."

"Hm." Missy hums, shrugging. "But they make such nice snacks." 

Yaz's protest muffled under Missy's palm, she kicks against her shin in a poor attempt to step on the woman's nearest foot. When Missy shifts away, the stranger gives a small smile. 

"Feisty. I see your point." She smirks, glancing over her shoulder to keep her attention on the boisterous crew of workers. "Guess you need it, with all the hours you spend being a good little consort." 

Missy discards the accusation with a snicker. "If you think I'm not the one pulling the strings, you don't know me very well. 

"What does she want anyway?" The stranger rolls her eyes. "Since when is the Lord-President too busy to check on our progress herself?" 

"I told you, Rani." Missy lowers her voice, mouthing the next words. "Strings." 

The redhead narrows her eyes, pursing her lips. "The bridge is coming along. We should be ready to test transportation in the next month, if we can find enough fools to fill a bus." 

"Define fools." 

The other Time Lord shrugs. "It's untested. Might blow up, might work fine." The answer barely lands in the space between them, before a scream breaks through the buzzing atmosphere of the cave. 

"I think they need your help." Missy points out, motioning to a commotion of loud noises coming from the same corner. 

The statement draws a frown from the Rani as she twirls around. Her coat flopping in a flurry of sparkling black material, she swears between her teeth and jumps off the platform. "Can't leave them alone for three seconds, they m..."

When her voice fades into the distance, Yaz wriggles free, stumbling away from the woman holding her. "What was that?" She growls, wiping her mouth against the back of her hand. "I'm not your pet, don't even think about doing this ag..."

"I just saved your life, you're welcome. And this." Missy interrupts, pointedly. "Was the Rani. The heartless monster you think we all are." 

Pausing at the reminder of the woman's almost emotionless gaze, Yaz falters. "What?" 

"She's exactly how you imagine Time Lords. Cruel, no sense of moral, craves power and thinks anyone who's not one of us is worth nothing." 

"Then why are we here?" Yaz glares. "To prove me right?" 

"Because she's in charge of scientific research on Gallifrey." Missy raises her arms. "And this our future transportation system. Could take people from the Citadel to Arcadia in seven minutes." 

Yaz's eyes grow wide. "You mean..." 

"Yes. In a few years, you should be able to go home without the week long travel." Missy smirks. "Thanks to the Rani." 

"That's not what I..." Blinking at the unexpected bit of information about the cold stranger, Yaz scowls her features in a neutral expression, composing herself. "I meant, how did you save my life?" 

"Oh." Missy shrugs. "The Rani hates the Doctor. Hates." She repeats, turning back. "She would have killed you."

"I'm surprised you didn't let her." Yaz mumbles, heading into the TARDIS once Missy unlocks the door. 

The comment freezes the older woman in her steps, dress twirling as she growls. 

"Either you're thick, or you really have no idea what's happening around you." She tilts her head down, allowing the tension to grow in the background as she steps into Yaz's personal space. 

Swallowing through the initial spark of fear that pushes her off-balance, Yaz anchors her boots to the ground, holding the Time Lord's glare as she forces herself to stay still. Her heart pounds against her ribs, leaving her short of breath in a heavy silence.

Yaz might be completely out of her depth, but she refuses to back down from the challenge. 

“I couldn’t care less about what happens to you.” Impressed despite herself, Missy snarls. "But the Lord-President executing our Chief of Science for murder, would turn into a bloodbath. I've lived through one Civil War, I don't want another." 

Missy sighs, a hint of annoyance seeping in her voice. "The first was exhausting, all the fighting happened at night. People should learn to kill each other at a reasonable time." 

"A civil war?" Yaz repeats, ignoring the nonsensical ramblings. 

"Yes, a civil war. It's what would happen if Time Lords who think like the Rani, decided to fight against the Doctor's supporters. " Missy rolls her eyes, retreating to the middle of the room. "Do I have to explain everything to you?"

"Which side are you on?" Yaz wonders, with the slow realization that her life might have taken a much more complicated turn than she anticipated, when she left Arcadia.

"My own side." She shuts down the conversation, tinkering around the console as Yaz regards her, wistful. 

"Was it true?" 

"What are you talking about?" Missy snaps. "Can't you ask questions like a normal person?" 

Yaz discards the quip. "The part about you pulling the strings." 

Single eyebrow hitching at the question, Missy glances over her shoulders. She smirks, catching the shifty, uncomfortable look in the other woman's eyes. "Aw, you're worried about your wife." 

Yaz falters, words rushing out of her mouth. "I'm not! I'm just... You don't..." She throws her hands in the air. "You're supposed to be friends." 

"Friendship between Time Lords is infinitely more complex than your tiny mind could ever imagine." Missy snarls. "Not that you'd ever bother. Why don't I show you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s the update: Spyfall part 2 hit really close to a couple of my PTSD triggers, which came with a solid mix of irrational anger and disappointment. Doctor Who has always been my ultimate safe place, and losing that... Has an impact that’s hard to describe without sounding stupid. 
> 
> On a lighter note, it’s also my job to study gender dynamics in pop culture, and I’m not here for suddenly graphic torture porn between the Doctor and the Master (weird how even with two gender fluid aliens, it’s always the women who ends up on their knees 🙃). I'm aware the actors are both really attractive people, and the characters are meant to have a twisted relationship (see Ten and his version of the Master). But context is _everything_. (No offense to anyone shipping them. Fans are not responsible for representation, have fun!)
> 
> Anyway, what all of that means is that I’m going to stay far, far away from series 12. I apologize if the characterization/story suffers, but it’s the only way I can keep writing (which I really need to do, especially now). 
> 
> If anyone managed to read all of that, next chapter should be out on Friday. It’s a good one ;-).


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m back!! With a chapter I’m mostly happy with, so that’s a bonus. I hope everyone enjoys it too, and thank you for your amazing support as always :-)

"Show me?" Yaz repeats. "How?"

The first two stops of their unforeseen trip highlighted the precarious position she's stuck into, and Yaz is not looking forwards to their next destination, especially not if it involves the Doctor. 

Despite herself, her memories of the General and the Rani are colored with the thinnest hint of sympathy, when she remembers giggling children and a railroad system that could turn into a way home. Yaz is nowhere near ready for her mental picture of the Doctor to change. 

Hating the woman she was forced to marry is safe, and simple, and it's the only emotion that doesn't remind Yaz of the hollow ache in her heart. Before she can dwell on the sensation, Missy saunters around the console. 

A sudden frown interrupts her brisk walk to the entrance, the Time Lord freezing with her hand hovering over the handle as she turns to the younger woman. "You need to take off your bracelet." 

"What?" Yaz blinks, watching Missy grab her left arm and unlatch the wrist band attached by the Doctor on their wedding day. Forcefully shoving away a hint of uneasy concern, she clears her throat. "Why?" 

"Don't you know what this is?" Fingers closing around the bracelet, Missy's eyes dart between her own hand and Yaz's arched eyebrow, as she hides the jewel into the console. "You really don't talk to her, do you?" 

"None of your business." Yaz scowls. 

"Except it is." Missy snaps, dragging her to the door. 

Yaz's feet falter once she recognizes their new surroundings, breath catching in her throat when she notices a familiar TARDIS repair shop. Returning Missy's tight grip, she catches her sleeve and brings them to a stop in the middle of the street. "Why are we here? If this is a joke, I d..."

"Shut up." Missy shoves her against a nearby wall, fist digging into the lapels of Yaz’s jacket. "Stop making everything about you for two minutes, and come with me." She takes a step back, eyes glistening with a dangerous edge. "Or I'll drag you inside myself. Your choice." 

Flattening her clothes, Yaz pads behind Missy with an open glare and follows her into the shop. The front room is empty, the noise of their footsteps the only disturbance in the complete silence. 

Inching closer to the wall, Missy peeks through a door leading to a set of stairs, puts her index in front of her lips and carefully drops her foot on squeaking wood. With a swift nod, Yaz tags along, struggling to keep her steps quiet. 

Once they reach the basement, Missy points towards a side door that Yaz didn't notice on her first visit. 

"Through here. Make sure they don't see you."

“Who?” Yaz whispers back. 

Stubbornly, Missy jerks her head towards the entrance and retreats into the shadows.

“Great.” Yaz mumbles to herself, easing the door open in slow, tentative movements, before peering into the sliver of light coming from the gap...

***************

The Doctor sighs, taking off her welding mask. She puts her tools away in a closet and leaves the newly repaired TARDIS - a golden, rusty car that looks about to fall apart - behind. With a long yawn, she enters the break room and finds a round table full of mechanics sharing lunch. 

“Fat lot of use you all were.” The Doctor teases, slipping into the last available chair. 

“I tried.” A redhead directly on her right shrugs. “But the laser blast hit the front, and the matrix was damaged.”

“So?” The Doctor challenges, digging into a piece of bread. 

A man interrupts from the other side of the table. “Come on, Doc. Leave Ada alone. You're the only person I know who would bother with a ship that has a broken matrix.” 

The Doctor rolls her eyes. “I shouldn't be. Not even that compl...”

“What's happening to our fleet?” 

The group’s attention shifts to the oldest person in the room, a white haired woman wearing thick, red rimmed glasses. She twists oil tinted fingers together, regarding the Doctor with clear blue eyes. 

“It looks like they get hit by the same sort of weapons. I've never seen anything like this.” She continues. 

Carefully chewing her mouthful of bread, the Doctor mentally reviews the limited information she’s allowed to share. “I’m not sure, Kes. There’s been an increase of attacks on our people travelling off world.”

“Why?” The woman pushes further, gnawing her bottom lip. 

“I’m not...” The Doctor hesitates. “I don’t know.”

“What are you going to do about it?” The question comes from a young, dark skinned girl, whose sharp gaze finds the Doctor's. 

"We don’t have enough intel to pla...”

“Nothing then.” The girl concludes, unhappy. 

The Time Lord sighs. “I have a few theories that we’re we're going to pu...”

“Then what?” Another man chimes in, ignoring her attempt to alleviate the shared concern. “Are we supposed to wait until the fleet is completely depleted before fighting back?”

“I won’t start a war based on theories.” The Doctor warns, a hint of tension seeping into her voice, as the usual laid-back lunch she shares with old coworkers takes an unpleasant turn. 

“How long until your theories b...”

“Enough!” The Doctor snaps, a controlled glare circling the table. “I get it, I’m worried too. But we’re working as quickly as we can.”

A semi-awkward silence lingers over the room while its occupants blink, surprised. Most of the group's members have known the Doctor for years, ever since the young Time Lord started using the repair shop as an escape from her life of duty. It makes it hard to remember she's their Lord-President now, and the change is a slow adjustment for the team of mechanics. 

Brooding over the reminder of danger looming over her people, the Doctor misses the look of mutual understanding exchanged by her table-mates. 

“Sorry, Doctor.” The elder woman shakes her head. “Of course you’re worried, especially with your wife’s situation. We know you’re tr...”

“What do you mean?” The Doctor interrupts, eyes shifting to Kes when she mentions Yaz. 

“Her...” She lowers her voice. “She’s sick, right? That’s why she’s never with you.”

“Ah, yes.” The Doctor heard the rumor for the first time on her way to the shop, happily accepting that nobody was questioning Yaz's absence. For now. “The Capitol is not the most welcoming place.” She smiles, tightly. 

Bent heads nod around the table, before one of the older man grins. “What’s she like?” He prompts. “Are you enjoying married life?”

"She's..." The Doctor starts, their limited interactions flashing through her mind. Despite most of their encounters turning into fights, there's something drawing her to her wife. 

A feeling rooted in the hint of sympathy occasionally flashing through Yaz's dark pupils, and the genuine smile flashed her way, back when the younger woman thought they escaped Gallifrey. 

It was the first time a mere grin sent her hearts racing, and the blond can only hope she'll find a way to mend their relationship and make Yaz smile like that again. 

"It's a bit odd, to marry a stranger." The Doctor finds her words, noticing the silence stretching over the room. "Was lucky though. She's great." 

"Great?" The man prompts again. "That's it? Surely you can tell us more than th..." His voice drops into a muffled groan, when the woman on his right hits his side with a chastising elbow. 

"I took a look at your police box." Ada suddenly speaks up, wrapping her leftovers in a brown bag. The interruption earns her a thankful glance from the Doctor. "It's not looking good. Were you fighting with the recall circuit?" 

The Time Lord shrugs, tilting her head. "Why would I do that?" 

Snorting, the mechanic grins. "For fun?" The playful reply warms the room, a bout of laughter echoing around the table. "Half of the systems are fried, do you really want me to work on her? She's old, I'm not sure it's worth the efforts."

"I'll do it." The Doctor volunteers, nodding. "I'm sure Kes can find you something else to do." 

"Are you sure?" The redhead presses. "We could use some of her pieces on the boat I was working on yeste..."

"No." Emerald eyes harden. "I'll take care of her." The Doctor clears her throat, caught off-guard by the fierce protective instinct over a ship she piloted for less than an hour. "Set her aside for me, please." She requests, smiling at the murmured agreement from the shop's owner. 

"I can see why you like her though. She has personality." Ada teases, standing to leave. 

The Doctor follows, eager to get another hour of work in, before a High Council meeting. "She's brilliant. And her systems are old school, I love it. I'm great at old school, have I ever told you about the tim..." 

***************

Yaz holds her breath when the rest of the group filters out of the room, using the door on the opposing side of her observation point. She rights herself, sliding across the wall as she almost back into Missy's hidden body. She meets the woman's expectant, raised eyebrow with a dazed look. "Well?" 

"I..." Scrambling for words, Yaz clears her throat. "I didn't know..." She blows out a controlled breath, choosing to keep the personal part of the conversation for herself. "I didn't know the Doctor has a hobby." 

"A hobby." Missy repeats, scowling. "The Doctor is the best mechanics in recent Gallifreyan history. TARDISes are grown, but if someone could build one, it’s her.”

Mentally reviewing her own words as they emerge from the shop into an empty street, she pulls a face. “Tell her I said that, and I promise I _will_ find a way to kill you.”

When the door of the TARDIS slam shut behind Yaz, she forces away the storm of mixed emotions swirling through her brain, along with the memory of the Doctor's easy relationship with her work mates. She turns to Missy, refusing to face her own, unwanted thoughts. 

"What's this? What's the goal of your little trip?" 

"I wanted to show you not all Time Lords are monsters." Missy explains vaguely, batting Yaz's hand away as she reaches for the golden bracelet still locked into her ship's console. "Ah, ah. We're not done." 

The words are barely out of her mouth, before they land again with a shaky, brutal motion that almost sends Yaz flying across the room. "There. Last stop." 

"Where are we?" 

"See for yourself." 

Yaz rolls her eyes, padding to the entrance and peeking her head through the threshold. She frowns when she catches sight of dusty streets, crumbling buildings and scattered shadows creeping around her, before she closes the door behind her back. "That's Low Town." 

"Look at you. Not as stupid as you seem." Missy strolls closer, motioning to the outside. "The street on your right, there's a little inn. Find it, get inside and go to the back of the room. You'll find a table hidden behind a column." 

"Then what?" Yaz frowns, too intrigued to refuse the instructions. 

"Make sure nobody sees you." Missy grabs her shoulders, forcing eye contact. "And _listen._ " 

The last whispered advice comes with a violent shove, sending Yaz tripping through the TARDIS' entrance. She lands heavily on her stomach, jumping back to her feet with a useless, unhappy glare to the ship's closed door. Brushing dust clinging to her trousers, Yaz scurries through the streets of the sinister city. 

She tugs her leather jacket closer when a gust of cold wind seeps through her clothes, turning into the first street on her right. Easily spotting the inn mentioned by Missy, she follows a group of strangers inside, ignoring the stench of alcohol around her. When she wanders deeper into the common room, the smell fades and she lets out a relieved breath. 

Pillars are scattered around the noisy tavern, forcing Yaz to crawl along the back wall, until she catches a glimpse of a familiar, tall shadow. Missy is seated at a table, facing away from her. 

Clicking her jaw shut, Yaz frowns as she searches for another entrance the Time Lord could have slipped through. Finding none, her eyes grow wide with the realization that they traveled through time. 

" _And listen._ " 

The words echo inside Yaz's head, prompting her to lean against the column closest to Missy's table, tucking her body in a little nook between the wall and the concrete surface. She dips her head, happy for the dark atmosphere thrown around the room by the fireplace. 

Minutes tick by, Yaz's legs tensing with the hint of cramps as she impatiently wonders how long she'll have to stand still for. She shifts her weight to the heels of her boots and almost trips when another silhouette fills the doorway.

The newcomer glances across the restaurant, flopping the hood of her coat back to reveal a head of tousled, blond hair. 

Frozen, Yaz tracks the Doctor's movements to the table behind her, as the woman sinks into a wooden chair and fills the second glass laying in front of Missy with amber liquid. 

"Well, good evening to you too." Missy drawls, earning a frustrated glare.

"Don't. Worst day of my life." 

"Aw, come on." The older woman argues, poking the golden bracelet locked around her friend's wrist. "You're the Lord-President now. How does it feel?" 

"Like a handcuff." The Doctor mumbles, shifting her hand away to down a second glass of ale. "Guess it's fitting, I did just get a life sentence." 

"You're so dramatic." Missy rolls her eyes, mimicking Yaz's thoughtless reaction from her corner. "You can do whatever you want now, could be dangerous." She pauses. "Well, after the wedding, of course." She smirks, over the edge of her own glass. 

"Don't remind me." The Doctor sighs, and Yaz frowns, surprised by the conversation she's witnessing. "It's barbaric." A pause. "And cruel, and primitive, and sav..." 

"I get it. You don't have to list every synonym of the word barbaric you can think of." 

A hint of exasperation shows through Missy's voice when she continues. "What's wrong with you? You might get to marry a beautiful woman, and do something about all the laws you always complain about." She interrupts herself to sip her drink. "Even if she's ugly, you can just ignore her for the rest of your lives and rule Gal..." 

"It's the principle of it!" The Doctor snaps, interrupting. "I don't mind giving my life to help Gallifrey, someone has to stop all the wars. But nobody else should be forced to sacrifice their future. I know what I'm getting into. That woman doesn't." 

Muffling a quiet gasp against her palm, Yaz blinks as she absorbs every word of the conversation she's overhearing, despite the growing, uneasy feeling at the back of her head. 

When the discussion between the two Time Lords shift to their time at the Academy, she makes a swift exit.

***************

Slowly wandering back through the streets of Low Town, Yaz is grateful for the wind whipping against the side of her face, a sharp contrast to the overheated tavern. 

Acknowledging her own prejudices about Time Lords left her shaken earlier, but witnessing the discussion between the Doctor and Missy tipped her entire world upside down. 

Bursts of conflicting emotions - shock, guilt, frustration - zip through her head as the slow realization that the Doctor had been trying to protect her before they even met, sinks in. 

When the black TARDIS comes into view, Yaz pushes against the door and trips her way to the nearest wall, Missy instantly sending the ship into flight. 

Biting her lip, Yaz forces herself to meet a dark, intrigued gaze glued to her face. "She was running away to protect me." She whispers, quietly. "It's what she meant, when she talked about the Lord-President disappearing." 

"Bleeding heart." Missy groans, rolling her eyes. 

Yaz jumps on the barely hidden contempt in her voice, thankful for any distraction. "Why are you doing this? It's clearly not to help me." 

"Of course not." Scowling, the Time Lord glares after stabilizing her TARDIS. "This has nothing to do with you." 

Missy pauses, throwing her wedding cuff to the younger woman. "I'm not even trying to help the Doctor. I'm doing this for myself." The eyes nailed to Yaz's profile narrow. "And because you're too thick to realize what you're doing to her." 

Lips parted on the beginning of an argument, Yaz sighs as she clasps the golden jewel around her wrist. Her gaze lingers on the round Gallifreyan characters engraved in the bracelet, fingertips following the mess of twirling lines and dots. She jumps when Missy's nearby voice bursts against her ear. 

"I want my friend back. That's all." The older woman whispers, fingers wrapping around Yaz's upper arm in a painful squeeze. 

"So, don't let this little trip confuse you. If it was up to me, you'd be dead, and the Doctor would have a new wife." Missy pulls a face, continuing on the same threatening, low voice. "Consider this your first and only warning." 

Heart pounding, Yaz wriggles to shake off the nails painfully digging into her skin through her clothes. Missy holds her in place, forcing eye contact. "If I have to knock you out again, you won't wake up." 

Blinking, Yaz gulps when the other woman's mouth twists into a mad, gleeful grin. "Good luck, for now." 

The words draw an intrigued frown from Yaz. "With wha..."

"The landing." 

Before she can understand what's happening, a hand bunches into Yaz’s leather jacket, sending her flying through the TARDIS' door with a muffled scream. 

***************

The short fall ends with Yaz hitting the concrete floor of her balcony, groaning as she can almost feel the bruises forming along her spine. 

She blows out a long breath, laying on her back with droplets of rain falling over her. Her mind boils with the sudden influx of information she gathered over the last hour, leaving her happy to get soaked by cold water. 

The weather fits her miserable mood, as Yaz reviews her own actions since she arrived to the Citadel. There's a new, persistent inkling of guilt that colors her memories, drawing another, noisy sigh from the depth of her lungs. 

"Why are you on the ground?" 

Yaz's eyes flutter open, the younger woman scrambling to sit as a head of blond hair peeks down from over the window. Perched upon the roof, the Doctor regards her curiously, her soaked grey coat proof that’s been sitting in the rain for a while. 

"Why are you on the roof?" Yaz fires back, tiredly. 

"Was waiting for you." 

Leaning back on her palms, Yaz shakes her head. "You were what?" Carefully keeping her tone gentle, she startles when the other woman jump from her spot, landing neatly at her side, on the balcony.

"Well, I always..." Frowning, the Doctor trails off. "I like to make sure you get home safe at night. Loads of people don't like me, and you're my w..." Biting her lip, she considers the proper way to voice her explanation, hoping she's not about to set off Yaz's anger. 

"We're mar..." The Doctor huffs, frustrated. "You know. You could be a target." 

Frowning as she watches the blond walk on eggshells, Yaz hops back to her feet. "We're married. It's fine, you can say it." She offers a shaky smile when green-brown eyes grow wide in surprise. "Come on. We need to talk." 

Stepping inside the front room through the door, Yaz shakes off the excess of water from her jacket, hanging the garment on the back of a chair. She’s about to retreat to her room, when the Doctor speaks up. 

“Thought you wanted to talk.” 

Turning to face the other woman, Yaz blinks at the sight. Blond hair plastered against her forehead and droplets of rain slowly pooling around her boots, the Doctor’s clothes stick to her body, dusting goosebumps on her bare forearms. 

“Yes.” Yaz confirms, the corner of her lips twitching in a small smile. “After you get out of those clothes.”

“I’m fine.” The Doctor fires back, sniffling. 

“You’re soaked.” Yaz raises a dubious eyebrow, her comment earning a forced, casual shrug. 

“Can’t really feel the cold.”

Tilting her head, Yaz takes in the Doctor’s fingers toying with her sleeve, her shifty gaze, and the way she balances her weight on her heels. Smile turned weary, she sighs.

“I’m not going to change my mind.” The statement draws a gauging gaze to her own, softening Yaz’s features. “I just want to get changed. We'll talk, I promise.” 

“Guess I could...” The Doctor interrupts herself, returning a nervous smile. “It’s a bit wet.” 

When a chuckling Yaz backs into her bedroom, she misses hazel eyes tracking her movement, brightened with a new sliver of hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know (or I hope) that the side-plot is a bit all over the place. I wanted the last two chapters to reflect Yaz's state of mind. She was dropped into a world she knows nothing about and refuses to engage with it, there’s bound to be confusion. 
> 
> I'll be tying up loose threads in the next chapter, early next week :-D


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to anyone who took the time to leave kudos/a comment :-D! I’m not sure I would still be writing this, without all the amazing support.
> 
> Enjoy the new chapter!

Yaz pads back into the front room, clad in a pair of warm leggings and a star littered jumper. There's a fire throwing shades of reds and oranges across the living space, and she rubs her hands together, enjoying the pleasant warmth seeping through her clothes. 

The Doctor appears in the doorway leading to her bedroom, back in her usual royal blue shirt and trousers, blankets in her hands. 

Offering one to Yaz, she sinks into the opposite end of the sofa in a flurry of clumsy movements. The Doctor is barely settled, before she slides to the edge of her seat, allowing her leg to bounce nervously.

"What did you want to talk about?" 

Yaz wraps the blanket around her shoulders and nestles her cheek against the soft material, caught off-guard by the clinging scent of Earl Grey tea as she tries to order her chaotic memories. Catching an anxious glance cast her way, she forces words out of her mouth. 

"I spent the afternoon with your friend." 

The Doctor blinks, her emerald eyes widening in a mix of shock and panic. "Do you mean Missy?" 

At Yaz's swift nod, she inches closer. "Are you all right? Did she hurt you? I told her to stay away from y..." 

"I'm fine." Cutting off the flow of flustered questions, Yaz decides to ignore the bittersweet squeeze in her chest with the gentle reminder of the Doctor's protectiveness. 

"Really." She assures with a sharp intake of breath, before sliding her feet across the ground. Mindful to keep a gap between their bodies, Yaz settles at the other woman's side. 

"She took me on a tour of the Capitol. I saw you." She explains. 

"Me?" The Doctor repeats, with a single hitched eyebrow. "Where?" 

"In Low Town, you were drinking together." Pausing to gauge the Doctor's reaction, Yaz sighs at the nervous way she twirls a loose thread on the blanket between her fingers. Wishing the dreadful shadow in green-brown pupils away, she clarifies. "On your coronation day." 

A quiet gasp and a few seconds of silence later, the Doctor rubs her forehead with the palm of her hand. "I don't know what you heard, but I'm n..."

"I heard you decide to run away to protect me." Yaz interrupts, softly. "Why didn't you say something before?" 

"I was going to, but..." Scrunching her nose, the Doctor justifies tentatively. "You didn't want to talk, and I didn't want to push you." 

"Right." Yaz leans further into the sofa, her head dropping against the backrest. "It's a mess, isn't it?" She sighs again. 

The Doctor blinks. "Are you talking about our marriage, the Capitol, or Gallifrey in general?" 

"Yes." Yaz quips back, shaking her head at the blunt question. It reminds her of a seed of worry planted by the other Time Lord earlier in the day, and she decides to get the Doctor's point of view. 

"Missy said..." Yaz pauses, gnawing at her bottom lip. "She talked about a Civil War." 

The Doctor rolls her eyes. "You wish." She whispers, turning a sympathetic gaze to the younger woman. 

"Don't know what she told you, but it's not happening. I'd have to do something really daft to cause a Civil war, with all the outside enemies we already have to fight."

Yaz scratches the back of her neck. "She said it would happen, if you killed the Rani." 

"What?" The Doctor frowns, confused. "Why would I kill her, she's usef..." 

Hazel eyes grow wide when the implication behind Yaz's suggestion sinks in. "She took you to see the Rani." 

"Yeah. She was working on some sort of transportation syst..." Yaz's voice falters as cool fingers suddenly wrap around her wrist, her head raising to find an intense gaze facing her. "What?" 

"Listen to me. You need to stay away fr..." The blond interrupts herself abruptly. "You can't..." She frowns, scrambling for a sentence that wouldn't sound like an order, as she threads softly to avoid triggering Yaz's anger.

"Doctor." 

The name brings a pair of uncertain eyes back to the dark haired woman, as Yaz shifts her arm to return the grip the Doctor still has on her wrist. 

The movement leaves their hands clasped together, the simple contact warmed by a shared desire to resolve their tension-filled relationship. 

"Say what you have to say. I want to understand what's going on." Yaz squares her shoulders. "I live here now." 

With a slow intake of breath, the Time Lord nods. Yaz deserves to know the dynamics she's unwillingly caught into, no matter the sharp desire to run that's brought up every time the Doctor remembers how much she despise most of her people. 

"They're dangerous. All of them." 

"You mean, all the Time Lords?" Yaz clarifies, with a slowly deepening frown. "Why?" 

"Dangerous isn't the right word. They won't waste their time hurting you, if you don't bother them. They're more..." The Doctor's eyes wander, struggling to explain the uneasy trust - born out of necessity - binding members of her species. 

"Self-centered. They have their own life-paths, their own goals, and nothing else matters. Not even other people."

"Missy seemed to care about y..."

"She doesn't." The corner of the Doctor's lips twitches in a humorless smile. "I'm the Lord-President, that's what she cares about."

"She said you were friends."

"Hm." The Doctor shrugs, shaking her head. "Used to be. Before she..." She gulps. "Before." 

Ignoring the hint of a troubled history between the Doctor and Missy - and making a mental note to revisit the topic later - Yaz confesses. "And she told the Rani it was her pulling the strings, not you." 

With a quick side-glance, she gauges the other woman’s reaction. Yaz is surprised by a quiet, exasperated sigh.

"Of course, she did." The Doctor's attention lingers on a burgundy rug, before she turns a disheartened gaze towards the other woman. "She's obsessed with power, Yaz. The Rani is more likely to do as she says, if she thinks Missy speaks in my name."

"I thought the Rani hated you." Yaz responds, frowning. 

"Well, yes. But I'm still in charge." Sad smile turning into the hint of a smirk, the Doctor continues. "Missy knows that, she enjoys it. Which makes her very predictable." 

"And why does the Rani hate you?" Yaz presses again, greedy for every trace of information that could help her understand the society she was catapulted into. She's cursing her own lack of awareness, knowing she was lulled into a false sense of safety by the boring routine of identical days. 

Moving to the Capitol rattled the very foundations of Yaz's life, but she can't use it as an excuse to confine herself into a disconnected bubble anymore. The events of the day made her realize Time Lords might not be as bad as she feared, yet she still refuses to be easily manipulated by the first one who could earn her trust.

Glancing to the woman silently thinking at her side, she sighs softly. The second one, she corrects herself. The Doctor already did, through gentle patience and stubborn determination, refusing to be deterred by the many times Yaz lashed out. 

"It's a long story." The Time Lord snaps out of her memory. "Do you really want to know?"

"It's just..." Yaz starts, hesitantly. "Who can I listen to? Who do I trust?" 

"Depends." 

The Doctor's casual tone draws a confused frown. "On what?" 

"On what you want to achieve. What's _your_ goal?" Green-brown eyes turned wary, the Doctor slowly lets go of the contact between their hands to cross her arms. 

"Up to you, Yaz. Do you still want to leave? Missy is your best chance, she would love the chaos. If you only want to get rid of me, stick to the Rani." 

With a shrug she hopes casual, the Doctor forces herself to stay neutral as she presents the available options. "Or you can make friend with any other Time Lords, and help them take my place." 

"It's all a game to them, they don't care about collateral damage." Running a tired hand down her face, the Doctor swallows audibly. "That's why other Gallifreyans hate us. Either leave, or pick a side and protect yourself. That's the best advice I can give you."

Yaz's gaze drifts to the flame crinkling in the fireplace as silence lingers. Mesmerizing colors hold her interest while her thoughts wander, jumping from one possibility to the other. 

"I want to go home." She says, softly. "I miss my family." 

Stomach dropping in her chest, the Doctor nods. While she can't relate, - never really had a family of her own - she understands Yaz's longing for the home she grew up in. 

"All right. I can't exactly..." Sighing, she nods to herself. "Help you escape. I can talk to Missy for you, I'm sure she'll have a pl..."

"What will happen to you?" Yaz tips forwards, settling her elbows on her knees. "If I go." 

"I'll be fine." The Doctor waves away the concern. "You don't have to worry about m..."

"Yes. I do." Yaz cuts off, glancing to the other woman over her shoulder. "The truth. What happens to you, if I leave?" 

Glancing into unwavering brown irises, the Doctor nods somberly. "Nothing, until people catch on that you're gone. Then..." 

She pauses, the scenario fleshing out in her mind. "Could go both ways. Either people will lose trust in me and I'll be banished, or they'll realize the Lord-President doesn't need to be bloody _married_ to care about them." 

Shoving away her own frustration, she forces herself to meet Yaz's curious eyes. "The truth, is that I don't know. There's no way of knowing, not until you leave." 

Nodding, Yaz pauses to review her own decision. The peaceful moment is disturbed only by the noise of the fire and the roar of rain, before brown eyes narrow and settle on the Doctor, brightened by an intensity that makes the woman toy with a corner of the blanket. 

"Yaz?" 

"You're different." 

The words land quietly in the space between them, freezing the Doctor's nervous fidgeting. She blinks, gulping while Yaz sorts through the ideas flying through her mind. 

"You care. I didn't even know your people could c..." She stops herself, biting her lip. "Why, Doctor? You said Time Lords all have their own life-goals, what's yours?" 

"Not really a planner." The blond argues, pursing her lips. "I just want to help. We're on the brink of war with about five different species, TARDISes are getting shot down every day by... Something, and the Lord-President before me was assassinated. Our old ways are not working anymore, I just want to bring peace back to Gallifrey." 

A shadow flashes through hazel pupils as they meet Yaz's. "Aren't you tired of people dying?" 

Holding the stare, Yaz inhales sharply. She reaches out, slowly mapping out the Doctor's forearm until she reaches her fingers and weaves them with her own. Quiet seconds tick by, until the older woman gives into the intrigued fluttering in her stomach. 

"Why... What are you doing?"

Yaz squares her shoulders, nodding to herself. "I'm choosing a side." 

The Doctor's gaze darts between determined eyes and the hand touching her wrist, firmly ignoring the spark of hope lighting her thoughts. 

"You said you wanted to go home." 

"I do. I miss my family." Yaz confirms, eyebrows pinching together. "But we're not perfect either. And I've realized today..." She trails off, lips twitching with the memory of Missy's voice. "Not everything is about me." 

The Doctor frowns, slowly. "I don't want you t..."

"I want to help too." Yaz interrupts, tilting her head to catch the other woman's wide gaze. "I've always wanted that, even when I was little. But I'm young, and there's only so much I could do back in Arcadia. Maybe..." She trails off with a small smile. "Maybe now I have a chance to make a difference for people." 

Yaz pauses, taking in the Doctor's slumped shoulders and tense features. "And make a difference for you. What do you think? Do you want a mate?" 

"God, _yes._ " 

Yaz freezes, frown deepening. The Doctor's gaze is nailed to the ground, but the unmistakable longing coloring her voice grips her heart. Remembering the way she treated the woman over the last few weeks, she flinches. 

"Can we..." She hesitates, until hazel irises turn in her direction, shining with the warmth of the fire. "Start over?" Yaz completes, in a low whisper. 

"Yes!" The Doctor shifts her grip on Yaz's palm, fingers circling her knuckles. "Hello, I'm the Doctor." 

Yaz chuckles, charmed by the slow-spreading grin thrown her way. She returns the pressure reflexively, allowing the awkward handshake. "I'm Yaz. It's very nice to meet you." 

Clearing her throat once she realizes they're silently staring at each other with identical, dopey smiles, Yaz remembers the very first time they argued. "Those... Audiences you told me about. What do I need to know?" 

The question draws an incredulous laugh from the Time Lord. "You want to h... Really?" 

"Why not?" Yaz shrugs, happy to catch a spark of delighted surprise brightening her new friend's gaze. She sinks deeper into the couch as she listens to the Doctor's quiet explanation, their forgotten, intertwined hands resting casually in the gap between their legs.

***************

Dawn barely started painting the Capitol's sky its usual color of blood red, when the Doctor sneaks out of the Lord-President's quarters. As far as she knows, Yaz is still asleep after their late night discussion.

The memory draws a thoughtless smile to her lips, quickly tamed by an anxious flare of nerves, as the Doctor wonders if the dark haired woman's behavior from last night would be a long term change. 

The prospect of having a trustworthy friend in her life settles warmly in her chest, fueled by the Time Lord's usual optimism. The ghost touch of Yaz's fingers wrapped around her forearm as she declared her intention to stay, only stokes her hopeful thinking as she strolls through empty hallways. 

Hands stuck deep in her pockets, the Doctor slips through a door, making swift work of the lock with a whir of her Sonic screwdriver. She narrows her eyes, finding the woman she's looking for half asleep on an armchair. 

"I warned you to stay away from Yaz." 

Missy startles, almost falling off her seat before righting herself. Clumsily getting back to her feet, she rolls her eyes at the Doctor's satisfied smirk. 

"Did you?" 

"Many times."

"Oh well." Missy shrugs, circling the room. Hazel eyes track her movements, until she's facing her friend. "Maybe I forgot. Or maybe I decided to ignore you, like you ignored all my warnings to pull yourself together." 

"You can't ignore me. I'm the Lord-President." The Doctor fires back, grinding her teeth together. 

"Are you?" Voice turned accusatory, Missy scowls through her rhetorical question. "I wouldn't know, you've been distracted for weeks. Gallifrey needs a leader, I had to do something." 

"Gallifrey has a leader." 

"Really?" Missy steps into the Doctor's space, gripping into the lapel of her coat. "Then you should start acting like it." 

"I am." The younger woman argues, through clenched teeth. She forces herself to stay still, shoving away the instinct to shake off Missy's hand. "The only reason I accepted the job is to bring p..." 

"Because of the poor little people who deserve peace. I know." Missy pushes forwards, until the Doctor's back hits the closed door. 

"Spare me your bleeding heart speeches. Want it or not, you're also the leader of the Time Lords." She lowers her voice, with a slow spreading smirk. "No matter how much you hate us." 

"Do I have to remind you this isn't a one-sided relationship? They don't like me either." 

"Which is why you need to be even more careful, you stupid idiot." She snaps. "And to stop letting that woman get into your head." 

" _That woman_ is my wife, because of a marriage neither of us chose." The Doctor objects. "I have a duty of care t..."

"What about your duty to your people?" Missy growls, first tightening into the material bunched in her hand. "Your duty to me." 

"I owe you nothing." 

"Don't you?" Eyes narrowed, her voice drops dangerously. "Maybe I should leave. See how you manage on your own."

Missy drawls, catching the dread-filled spark that flashes through the Doctor's eyes, before the woman compose herself. "What's the matter, Doctor? Not sure you can handle being in charge without me?" 

The quiet taunting misses its target, lighting up hazel irises with quiet stubbornness as the shorter woman's thoughts click together. "Fine. Go."

"Please. You'd be lost without me." Missy rolls her eyes, calling the Doctor's bluff. 

"Wouldn't. Leave, and see how much you miss the power you have as my consort, when you're stuck being an ordinary woman on a far away planet." 

"If you think I can't land on _any_ planet and make entire civilizations obey me, you haven't been paying attention." Missy glares. "I could conquer galaxies, if I wanted to." 

"Hm." The Doctor holds a dark, offended stare, with the hint of a smirk. "But it wouldn't be the most powerful civilization in the universe obeying you, would it?" 

Missy growls, silently cursing their decade-old friendship. "It doesn't matter." 

"Oh, I think it does." The Doctor shakes her head, pressing forwards as the grip on her coat loosens. 

"You have no interest in ordering 'little people' around, not when you had a taste of what controlling Time Lords feels like. You would never leave, Missy." 

Anchoring their gazes together, the Doctor lowers her voice. "But I could banish you." 

"You wouldn't." Missy denies, fingers slackening with a hint of doubt. While she knows the Doctor would never exile her as revenge, predicting her friend's decisions whenever her protective instincts get triggered is almost impossible. 

"Try me." The Doctor fires back. "For the last time, leave Yaz alone." Flattening her clothes, she turns on her heels. "I'll see you for audiences."

Missy watches her go, eyes hardening as her friend disappears from view. The Doctor's new wife might turn out to be more trouble than she anticipated, after all. She grins. 

Nothing wrong with a challenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back at work, which means my weekly word count is going down a little. I like the twice-a-week update schedule though, so I think I'll stick with it :-).


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m struggling a little with the next chapter, so it might come out later next week! Happy weekend :-D

Yaz startles when a muted noise shakes the edge of her semi-awake mind, snapped out of her dilemma. 

Wringing the excess of water out of her hair, she throws a dressing-gown on and peeks into the front room. She frowns when she finds the Doctor facing a wall, palms resting against the hard surface and head hung low. 

"What's wrong?" 

"Had a talk with Missy. It did not go well." She somberly replies, mustering a smile before glancing over her shoulder. 

Gasping, emerald eyes grow wide when she catches a glimpse of Yaz's state of undress. "Wh..." The Doctor blinks, willing herself to hold eye contact despite the flush warming her cheeks. "Clothes?" 

"Ah, yes." Yaz looks down at herself. Amused by the other woman's flustered voice and reddened face, she distractedly tugs on the knot tying the gown closed. "I need your help." 

"With your... Clothes?" 

A beckoning wave is the Doctor's only response, as she allows hesitant feet to guide her into Yaz's room. She slips into the space between the bed and the closet, grateful for the distraction offered by a pile of garments covering the mattress. 

Confused, the blond tilts her head and catches a flash of black material thrown her way. 

"I don't know what to wear." Yaz explains, with a disgruntled sigh as she drops onto the bed. "I've never been to audiences before." 

"Anything you want." The Time Lord shrugs, examining the vest held in her fist to keep her eyes from wandering to Yaz's bare, stretched legs. "I’m the only person who can tell you what to do." 

Frowning, the Doctor reconsiders her words. "Technically. I'm not trying to control you, but the Lord-President's wife is above anyone el..."

"I get it." Yaz cuts off, stomach dropping when she spots the careful way the Doctor handpicks her words. The woman still seems to be walking on eggshells, not that Yaz can blame her after weeks of tense relationship. They've been on speaking terms for less than a day. 

"It's okay. What do people normally wear?"

"Do all your clothes have writing on it?" The Doctor ignores the question, distracted by the Gallifreyan characters covering the right sleeve of the jacket she's holding. 

"Just that vest, a couple of jumpers and a coat." She replies, frowning as she digs into the pile of colorful material. 

"Here." Yaz adds, when she finds the pieces of clothing she mentioned. 

"Right. I'll take those, they need adjustments." The Doctor shuffles closer, taking the handful of clothes. "What were you saying?" 

"What do people wear to audiences?" Yaz repeats. 

The Doctor snickers. "We're Time Lords. Are you sure you want fashion advice from me?"

"Yes. I'm not asking _Ryan._ " Yaz laughs, a quiet chuckle that settles warmly into the Doctor's chest. 

"Well..." She trails off, gnawing at her bottom lip. "I wear this." With a pointed look to her own mix of black coat, trousers and crisp, white shirt, she shrugs. "Missy wears what she always wears. There's no rule." 

"You're not helping." Yaz states, sighing. 

"If you really want my advice..." Raising her head to find the dark haired woman silently frowning, the Doctor gives a one-shouldered shrug. "You were beautiful in red." 

"Red, when did you see me in r..." Yaz interrupts herself, following the other woman's gaze to the tunic she sported at their wedding. 

“Oh.” With a steadying intake of breath, she meets uncertain hazel eyes. "I thought... You looked good too." She offers clumsily, wincing until she spots the Doctor's sparkling grin. 

"Yeah?" 

"Yes." Yaz confirms. Ignoring the odd way her stomach flips as they smile at each other - she blames a sudden burst of nerves, with today being her first official day of work - she sends the Doctor away from her room. 

"Go, I'll get dressed and come find you. I need to message Ryan." 

A mock salute later, the Doctor is on her way to the depth of the castle, pile of clothes tucked under her arm as she scribbles on a sheet of paper.

***************

"I can't do this." Yaz starts, when the door behind her unlocks and bursts opened. "I really, really can't." 

Her words echo against the walls of the empty backroom she's standing into, waiting for public audiences to begin. 

"I don't know what I was thinking, Ryan." Yaz continues, head tipped down as she paces across the dark stone floor. "How am I supposed to help those people? I've been living here three weeks." 

Her last-minute warning to Ryan about her changed schedule went unanswered, and she's grateful for the steady presence of her bodyguard-turned-friend, as countless scenarios of potential disasters zip through her head. 

Yaz slows her steps, hands wrung together. "I want to do it, but I don't think I can. Everyone will be looking at me, and I hate public speaking. Phobia sort of hate. What if I embarrass myself in front of all those people?" 

Blowing out a long breath, Yaz closes her eyes. "The Doctor will be there too. She probably thinks I'm an idiot already, with all the time I spent sulking. I don't want to make it wor..."

"I don't. I think you're going to be brilliant." 

Startled, Yaz's eyelids flutter, her breath catching in her throat as she turns to find the woman standing in the doorway, hesitant. 

"You're... Not Ryan." She states plainly. 

"Should I..." The Doctor vaguely motions to the hallway behind her. "Leave and find him?" 

"What?" Still stunned, the younger woman scrambles to kick-start her brain. The Doctor's tentative step back makes words spill from her mouth. "No. You can stay." 

Catching an uncertain if earnest hazel gaze, Yaz forces a steadying breath into her lungs. "Please, stay." 

With a swift nod, the Time Lord shuts the door behind her back and pads closer to stand on Yaz's left side. She trails her eyes on the second door, - still closed as clerks organize the audience room - respecting the other woman's clear desire for personal space. 

Grateful for the peaceful moment that allows her to untangle her thoughts, Yaz fidgets with the loose sleeves of her deep red polo shirt. "I thought you'd already be inside." She remarks, glancing to the side. 

"Usually am." The Doctor shrugs. "But there's going to be a lot of attention on you, and I just..." She fumbles, with a clumsy smile. "Thought maybe you'd want some company."

"Hm." The noncommittal noise is the best response Yaz can muster, turning back to face the door as she squares her shoulders. 

If she's lucky, the Doctor will move passed her anxiety-riddled speech, and leave her alone with the stressful mess of emotions brewing in her h... 

"If it makes you feel better, I have no idea what I'm doing either." The Doctor says, as quiet seconds tick by. 

"You... Don't?" Yaz repeats, intrigued but happy the woman didn't offer empty reassurances. 

"Nope." The blond pops the word, balancing her weight on the heels of her boots. "Went through decades of training at the Academy. They taught us about science, and maths, and time travel." Emerald irises glazing over, she tilts her head, lost in her memories. 

"They never said what to do when a man begs for your help, because he can't afford a house for him and his two children." The Doctor whispers, sadly. 

Yaz blinks, caught off-guard. "Did that happen to you?" 

"Last week. Ended up finding him a job." The Doctor shakes her head. "It's not much, but he has a flat in Mid-Town now. Think he likes it." 

Yaz's lips part on the beginning of a new question, before her jaw clicks shut, as she realizes she has no idea what to truly expect from her first contact with people seeking help. It's a welcomed distraction from the anxious worry about her own public appearance. 

Sensing the mood shift, the Time Lord glances to the side with a small smile. "It was my toughest day yet. Most people are just looking for a sympathetic ear, or a solution to their problems." She softens her voice. "Nobody is expecting you to solve every crisis on Gallifrey, Yaz." 

Yaz frowns, suddenly reminded of the high expectations she always sets for herself. With a long sigh, she feels the burden weighing heavy on her shoulders ease a touch, as the tension in her neck fades. "How long have you been holding audiences for?" 

"Little less than a month." 

Shocked, Yaz's eyebrows shoot up. 

"So, I know what you're going through." The Doctor pleads, carefully stepping closer. "The public pressure, the need to help people, the worry that you won't be good enough... I understand." She trails off, tilting her head. 

"Well, not that last bit. But I understand the rest. You're not alone though, I'm here." The offer is mellow, coming with a casual shrug that tugs at Yaz's heartstrings. 

"Are you?" She wonders softly. 

"Of course." The Doctor confirms, with a firm nod. "All you have to do is sit and listen to people. I can do the talking." She hesitates, frowning. "But I'd love to know what you're thinking, feel free to interrupt." Reviewing her own advice, she sighs. "Not very helpful, am I?" 

Yaz chuckles, touched by the other woman's eagerness to make her feel comfortable. 

"Just stick with me. I talk a lot, people will get distracted and forget you're even there." 

Without a word, Yaz reaches out to find the blond's hand, slotting their fingers together. Catching the surprised, hitched eyebrow facing her, she smiles. "What? I'm sticking with you." 

The Doctor grins, guiding the younger woman through the doorway facing them. 

They slip into the audience room, Yaz's feet faltering as she catches sight of marble floors, high ceilings and dark red banners covering the few windows. The space is mostly empty, except for a rough, black carpet that leads to an elevated platform at one end of the room, where two unoccupied chairs wait for them.

Yaz's eyes narrow when she recognizes Missy already sprawled on a third, far right seat. 

Forcing her attention away, her eyes jump between the scattered chandeliers made of iron, their leftover candles throwing a somber atmosphere around the room. 

"It's..." She whispers, as they walk passed a line of soldiers waiting at the bottom of wooden steps leading to the platform. The multiple curious pairs of eyes tracking her movements make Yaz lose her train of thoughts. "Erm..."

The Doctor snickers. "Posh. Rassilon redecorated." The Time Lord explains, scrunching her nose. "I don't like it." 

Yaz nods in silent agreement, throwing a last glance around, before she falls into the far-left chair and scowls her features in a neutral expression.

***************

Eyeing their clasped hands, Missy raises a smug eyebrow. She waits until the Doctor settles in her seat, tilting her head to whisper in her ear. "So, you're friends, now?" 

The blond glares, gripping both armrests with a silent grimace. 

"You're welcome. You realize that makes your little speech from earlier completely pointless, of course." She smirks. "I helped you." 

"No, you didn't." The Doctor corrects, rolling her eyes. "You helped yourself." 

Missy drops her voice, in a poor attempt to imitate her friend. "Oh, thank you, Missy. What would I do without you?" 

"Are you done?" The Doctor snaps, muffling a sigh against the palm of her hand. 

"I'm just getting started." She singsongs, a gleeful spark brightening her irises. There's a newly returned levelheadedness to her friend's eyes, that leaves Missy relieved, if a bit disappointed. 

She does enjoy murdering people who get in her way. 

"Are you going to fight the whole time?" Yaz abruptly interrupts from the Doctor's other side. 

"Maybe." Missy fires back, shrugging. "You should consider yourself lucky. I was on my way to kill you, after this." She reaches into the side pocket of her dress, fishing out a small, metallic device. 

"What's that?" Yaz frowns. 

"Tissue Compression Eliminator." 

"It shrinks things."The Doctor explains, slipping the object from Missy's loose grasp. "And it's confiscated." 

"Not things, people. A creative and efficient way to make problems... Disappear." She smiles, catching Yaz's attention with a hand flourish. "That's what I was going to do to you, before I changed my mind." 

"What did you say?" The Doctor cuts in, her voice taking a sharp edge. 

Yaz blinks, steering away from the Time Lords' bickering. A shiver racks down her spine when she spots a gleaming shadow swirling in Missy's gaze, the woman's attention glued to her weapon. 

"I said, I changed my mind. Why do you always focus on the negative?" 

"Because you can't just shrink people you don't like!" The Doctor snaps, throwing her hands in the air. "Especially not someone I told you to stay away from." 

"Come on." Missy challenges, nudging their shoulders together. "It's how we work. You tell me what to do, and I purposefully avoid doing it." 

She sticks her head out, meeting Yaz's frown. "It's our flirting." With an exaggerated wink, she sinks back into her seat, legs crossed. 

The Doctor throws her head back, muffling a unhappy groan against her hand. "Just stop talking. Please." 

"Well, since you asked so nicely." 

The knot of anxiety tightening Yaz's chest loosens, her eyes darting between the Doctor's exasperated frown and Missy's satisfied smirk. Their exchanged quips are ruthless, but there's a familiar, teasing tone behind the words that reminds her of a more twisted version of her relationship with Sonya. 

Yaz tilts her head closer to the blond, lowering her voice. "Is she always like that?" 

"Sadly, yes. It's insufferable." 

Before Missy can give voice any objection, a guard approaches the platform. "Are you ready?" 

At the Doctor's nod, he turns and pads to the imposing doors. Yaz gulps, squaring her shoulders with a sharp intake of breath. 

***************

The first woman who crosses the threshold of the audience room has white hair, clothes too large to fit her, and a harrowed, exhausted look in the depth of her pupils. She approaches the platform, freezing in the middle of the empty space as she clenches a thin sheet of paper between her hands. 

Her voice is strong, roughly enunciating string of Gallifreyan words that escape Yaz's knowledge of the language. Struggling to pay attention to the woman's lengthy explanation, she frowns when Missy suddenly dips her head closer to the Doctor's. 

"Just so we're all on the same page, what’s her neighbor stealing from her fields? Her chickens or her children?" 

The Doctor purses her lips, fighting an amused smile as Yaz glares at the two Time Lords. 

"It's not funny." She whispers, while Missy rolls her eyes and the Doctor offers a genuinely confused stare. "She's trying, don't make fun of her." 

Not waiting for a reply, Yaz clears her throat and stands, ignoring her suddenly racing heart when the general attention shifts in her direction. "Sorry, ma'am?" 

The woman raises her head from the piece of paper still clutched in her hands, concerned. 

"I don't speak much Gallifreyan, would you mind explaining again?" 

She blinks, gaze flickering between Yaz and the two seated women. "Will they understand wh..."

"Yes. They're much more clever than they look." 

The quip is out of her mouth before Yaz can filter her thoughts, earning her a shocked gasp from the old woman. Missy grumbles, her open glare tamed by the Doctor's warning whisper. 

"Yaz is right." The Doctor cuts through the sudden tension, gentling her eyes. "Whichever language you're comfortable in, we'll understand." 

The woman's shoulders sag, as she tucks away the sheet and starts her explanation over. With a relieved breath, Yaz sinks back into her seat, startled when a cool hand covers her wrist and squeezes softly. 

"Told you. Brilliant."

Yaz blames her suddenly flushed cheeks and speeding heartbeat on the intrigued glances still aimed in her direction, ignoring the ghost sensation of pressure on her skin, that lingers long after the Doctor takes back her hand.

***************

With a grunt, Yaz carefully drops the pile of books tucked under her arm. Graham practically shoved the volumes in her arms after their usual group dinner, almost pushing her out of the door once she told him and Ryan about the complete turnaround of her life.

While Ryan listened to her tale, - an odd spark growing stronger in his eyes as he noticed the way Yaz's words colored with warmth, every time she mentioned the Doctor - it’s Graham's enthusiasm that caught her attention. 

Her two friends sent her home with a nonsensical excuse about having to be up early on the next day, leaving her with a pile of books and encouraging pats on her back, as they ignored her perplexed interrogations.

Yaz could only blink at the closed door of their house, shrugging as she wandered along the trail leading back to the Citadel. 

When she reached her assigned quarters, shadows were growing longer, and the red-blood sky of Gallifrey morphed into a mix of dark blue and purple. 

Yawning, Yaz throws a few logs into the fireplace and scratches a match against rough bricks, throwing down the burning object. 

Once the fire roars to life, she sinks into the sofa and finds the bookmark she slid into a heavy tome about Gallifreyan history. She's mid-way through a chapter about the Founding Fathers of their civilization, when growing footsteps interrupt her reading. 

Raising her head in time to watch the Doctor slips into the room with a heaving sigh, she frowns. "Everything all right?" 

Startled, the blond scans the living space, smiling reflexively when she finds Yaz peering at her over a book. "Hi." 

"Hello." Yaz fails to bite back an answering grin. "Are you okay?" 

The Doctor waves away the concern, toeing her boots off. "Fine. Had a High Council meeting, it ran late." Padding closer, she drops into the empty end of the sofa. "What are you reading?" 

"It's about Gallifrey's history." Yaz explains, showing the cover. "There's a whole chapter about the Founding Fathers. Did you know Omega wanted t..." 

"Probably." The Doctor interrupts, distractedly watching the fire. "Met them." 

"What? Who?"

"The Founding Fathers." She purses her lips, unhappy. "Awful people." 

Settling deeper into the cushion, she feels a cold, sharp edge lodge into her ribs. The Doctor's fingers reach into the inner pocket of her coat, closing around Missy's forgotten TCE. Intrigued, she pokes at the rusty metal. 

Tracking her movements, Yaz frowns. "Should you really be playing with a shrinking weapon?" 

The Doctor rolls her eyes. "I know what I'm doin..." 

Before she can complete her argument, the object slips through her grasp and falls to the floor, going off and hitting the coffee table that shrinks, under a pair of stunned gazes. 

"Erm, maybe not." The Doctor concedes, scratching the back of her neck, before she carefully kicks the weapon to a far away corner of the room. Observing the miniature version of the table, she tilts her head. "Clever though. You can get rid of anything." 

"Yeah, like a dead body." Yaz reminds her, with a slowly deepening frown as Missy's threats come to the forefront of her mind. "Should I warn Ryan?" 

The Doctor faces her, nose scrunched in silent apology. "Why?" 

"About Missy. She keeps threatening to kill me, and he's in charge of my security." 

"Ah." The blond sighs, shaking her head. "That's my fault, I'm sorry." 

Confused, Yaz prompts further. "What do you mean?" 

"I've been..." She inhales sharply. "Distracted is a good way to put it. And she blames you." 

Yaz's eyebrows pinch together. "How is it my fault, if you're distracted?" 

Before the Doctor can think of an answer, a knock on the door interrupts the conversation. Yaz jumps, the other woman springing to her feet towards the entrance. 

"Delivery, for the Doctor." A young man announces, handing over a bundle of clothes Yaz recognizes as her own. With a thankful nod, the blond seizes it and kicks the door shut behind her, stumbling her way back to the sofa.

When the pile of garments land besides her, Yaz gingerly examines the jacket she intended on wearing in the morning. The black material is soft under her fingertips, golden characters littering both sleeves, instead of a single side. She glances up, curious. 

"What does it mean?" 

Standing hands on her hips, the Doctor explains with the hint of a smile. "Right sleeve says 'Lord-President's wife'." 

Yaz sighs, pulling a face. She doesn't mind her new position anymore, the tiniest spark of pride warming her chest at the idea of being linked to the Doctor. She only wishes the association wouldn't come at the expanse of her own identity. 

"I know." 

The Doctor's voice draws Yaz's head up, who's surprised to see a similar, unhappy scowl on her features. 

"Some of my formal jackets say Lord-President, I hate it." She shrugs, pointing to the other sleeve clutched between the younger woman's fingers. 

"But it's your name, on the other side. Well, as close as I could get. Gallifreyan is really not the best to spell out names, it's sort o..." 

Tuning out of the rambling explanation, Yaz allows the pad of her fingers to trace round shapes, stunned by the gesture. "You did this?" She interrupts, quietly. 

The Doctor blinks, puzzled by the traces of shakiness in her friend's voice. "Just the spelling. The seamstress did the rest, I'm rubbish at sew..." 

The last word sticks to the roof of her mouth when Yaz jumps to her feet, closing the distance between them to squeeze her arms around the Doctor's waist.

"Oh." Gulping through the stingy sensation at the back of her throat, she drops her voice. "Yaz? Why... What are you doing?"

"I'm hugging you." The genuine confusion in a Northern-accent colored voice loosens her grip around the Doctor's waist. "Sorry, do you not like hugs? I d..." 

Yaz's apology is cut short when palms settle carefully on her back, fingers splayed against the soft material of her jumper. 

"Don't know, never had one." The Doctor mumbles, head tentatively dropping to Yaz’s shoulder. "This is nice though." 

Yaz's breath hitches, glad for the hiding spot she finds against the side of the blond's neck. "You've never had a hug?" She repeats, gently.

The Doctor's only answer is a silent head shake that sends Yaz’s mind reeling, memories of her childhood flashing behind her closed eyelids as she remembers her parents' touch-oriented affection. 

A sympathetic, painful ache tugs at Yaz’s heart, drawing her arms more securely around the taller woman's body. 

Muffling a smile against the top of Yaz’s shoulder, the Time Lord is surprised by the addicting warmth slowly seeping through the contact. With a content sigh, the Doctor makes a decision. 

Hugs are brilliant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for all the support. I didn't expect this to take off, and you've all been so lovely!!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I beat my writer's block with a pretty significant time jump (Switching things up always helps). It means I skipped through quite a bit of character development, but I'll incorporate a few flashbacks that will fill up the gap. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who takes the time to leave a comment or kudos :-D

"A bow-tie? Really?" Yaz interrupts from the doorway of the Doctor's room, watching the woman straightens the polka dotted material wrapped around her neck. 

"Bow-ties are cool." The Doctor responds, tongue peeking out from between her teeth, as she gives herself a satisfied nod. "I'm not making fun of your outfit, a..." 

The rest of the sentence morphs into a quiet gasp, when the Doctor turns and faces her friend. Yaz's blazer glistens in shades of blues and golds that bring out a warm twinkle in her eyes, derailing her train of thoughts. 

"Beautiful." The Time Lord breathes, missing the warm flush turning Yaz's cheeks red in the room's dimmed lighting. 

"Thank you." Yaz chokes out, stepping closer to flatten the collar of the Doctor's shirt under her coat. "I was joking, you look dapper." 

"Yeah? Wasn't sure about the coat." 

"I like it." Yaz replies, touch shifting down to trace the colorful lining. "Where else would you put rainbows?" 

"That's what I told Rosa!" The Doctor grins, restlessly tucking stray blond hair behind her ear, scratching the back of her neck. "Imagine me without rainbows."

"Are you nervous?" Yaz wonders, spotting the anxious fidgeting. 

"Nervous? Why would I be nerv..." Her attempt to sweep away the question ends when Yaz raises an unimpressed eyebrow. 

The Doctor sighs, with what she hopes is a casual shrug. "It's my first Spring celebration as Lord-President. What if it goes wrong?" 

Yaz hums in understanding. "What could go wrong?" 

Scrunching her nose, the Doctor frowns. "Did you have to say that?" 

"No, I mean literally." Yaz explains, shaking her head. "How could tonight go wrong?" 

The Doctor ponders the question. "Well, could be boring." 

Yaz snorts, caught off-guard. "It will be, better prepare. Anything else?" 

Seeing the Time Lord scramble for an answer, Yaz reaches for a twitching hand and squeezes gently. "It's an evening of mingling and eating with people you don't like, bu..."

"That!" The Doctor interrupts, snapping her fingers. "What if the food is awful?" 

"Then we can leave early and go find something to eat." Yaz rolls her eyes, tugging on the Doctor's fingers. "I'll be with you, there's nothing to worry about." 

The role reversal is a fairly new development. Time allows the Doctor to let her emotions seep through the carefully built barriers around her hearts more often. The show of trust leaves Yaz dizzy every time, touched by the opportunity to comfort the woman she considers her best friend. 

The Doctor nods, breathing deeply. "You're right."

"What did you say?" 

"Not repeating it." The blond pulls a face, extending an elbow in Yaz's direction. The dark haired woman loops their arms together, leading the way out with a smile.

***************

Between the strings of fairy lights hung on dark stone walls, the feast presented on silver plates at one end of the room and a trio of musicians playing violins at the other, chestnut eyes grow wide when Yaz follows the Doctor into a ballroom. 

Slowing her steps, she pauses and takes in the stunningly warm atmosphere. 

The blond glances over her shoulder when the hand tucked against her elbow falls away, grinning when she catches the glimpse of genuine shock that flashes through Yaz's pupils. 

"Not what you expected for a Time Lord party, is it?" 

Yaz shakes her head with a slow spreading smile. "Wow."

"I know. Come on, before someone notice I'm here." She tugs the other woman to a corner of the room, resting her back against a wall. 

"Used to be a lot more formal, but since we don't have a steward..." Shrugging, the Doctor tilts her head. "I'm not even sure who organized all this." 

Yaz bites her lip, playful. "Shouldn't the Lord-President know what's going on in her own house?" 

"Oi." The Doctor nudges their shoulders together. "I know the important bits. And it's not a house, it's a posh castle I don't like."

Catching the quiet sigh, Yaz leans into the Doctor's side. She makes a point of showing affection through casual touches since the first time they hugged, months ago... 

Which has nothing to do with the endearing way the Time Lord constantly seeks to be close to her, Yaz tells herself. 

“What does a steward do anyway?” She wonders, snapping herself out of her head. 

“Runs the place. Astos used to plan events, keep us on schedule and help the staff if they needed anything.” She sighs. “Before he died.”

"Maybe you should replace him." Yaz suggests. 

"I'd have to find someone I can trust." The Doctor scrunches her nose, unhappy. "And who doesn't make me want to run every time we meet." 

"Not one of your people then." Yaz teases, drawing a surprised snicker from the blond. 

"Probably not. Not sure I can find someone else willing to deal with us though." 

A bustling group of people walking through the entrance interrupts the conversation, the Doctor backing further into the coverage granted by the wall behind her. 

"That's the War Chief." She whispers, tilting her head into Yaz's space. "Which means the General is around somewhere, and the man on the other side is Drax." 

"How many people do I have to remember?" 

"Do you want me to make them wear little badges with their names?" The Doctor teases, forcing Yaz to battle a smile. "Could, you know. I'm the Lord-President." 

"Hm." Yaz nods, turning to face the other woman. They're nose to nose, struggling to hold eye contact as she responds. "How would you explain it to them?" 

"Badges are very useful, Yaz. What if they forget who they are?" 

Yaz laughs this time, a clear, surprised sound that draws attention in her direction. She waves in apology, offering a frozen smile until guests return to their previous occupation. 

"You are trouble." She whispers, with a mock glare. Seeing the corner of the Doctor's mouth twitch, Yaz scrambles to cover her lips with a hand before she can answer. 

"I know. You're not trouble, you're the Doctor. Shut up." 

Hazel eyes twinkle in amusement, waiting patiently until Yaz removes her palm. 

"Yasmin Khan." The Doctor's voice drops, sending a fluttery, warm sensation coursing through the dark haired woman's stomach. "I'm not that predictable." 

Mouth suddenly dry, Yaz's attempt to jump-start her brain is cut short by a booming voice. 

"Come on, you lot. I've been to funeral that were more entertaining than this." 

Ignored by a majority of the crowd, the quip earns the newcomer a few annoyed groans and exasperated, tense smiles. The Doctor's quiet gasp catches Yaz's attention, before the woman drifts away from her side. 

"Been to a lot of funerals recently, haven't you?" 

"Doc!" The woman greets, ruffling the Doctor's hair in a familiar gesture that makes Yaz's eyes grow wide. "Did you shrink? You're definitely shorter than last time I saw you." 

Ducking away from the persistent touch, the blond glares. "Do you have to do that every time?" 

Knowing an amused chuckle is the only answer she will get, the Doctor continues. "And I'm not shorter, thank you very much. Having trouble with your eyesight again?"

Yaz watches the interaction, frown deepening as she seizes a glass of wine from the tray of a nearby kitchen staff member, with a thankful nod. Lips dipping into the clear liquid, she hums in relief, her gaze turning critical as she examines the stranger. 

Clad in black trousers that flops around her ankles, a white shirt and a torn, red blood coat, her tousled red hair is tucked into a matching hat. Digging into her memory, Yaz can't remember encountering her around the Citadel before today. 

"Who's that?" She mutters to herself, confused. 

"The Corsair." The sudden reply tips the glass from Yaz's grip, a foreign hand squeezing the cup until her fingers clinch it back. "This is very good wine, can you not waste it?" 

Rolling her eyes, she glares. "Says the woman making people jump." Yaz fires back. "What do you want?" 

"You should be nicer to me." Missy raises her hands in surrender, a faux-innocent smile on her lips. "Here I am, trying to be useful, and you j..."

"Fine." Yaz grumbles, watching the stranger throw a heavy arm around the Doctor's shoulders. "Be useful. Who is she?" 

"The Corsair." The Time Lord pulls a face. "Which is by far the stupidest name ever chosen by a Tim..."

"Matches her stupid clothes." The words tumble from Yaz's lips, leaving her frowning at her instinctive dislike of the stranger. 

"Yes." Missy snickers, caught off-guard. "She's a traveler. Can't stand being around us for too long, so she spends most of her time on her TARDIS." 

Falling quiet, both women frowns when the Doctor drags her friend to the buffet table. 

"I don't like her." Yaz decides, when the Corsair slips a few words in the blond's ear, earning a bout of laughter. 

"You weren't at the Academy with us." She drops her voice, in a poor attempt to imitate the blond's Northern accent. " _The Corsair has her own TARDIS, Missy. She's so cool._ " 

Returning to her normal tone, Missy continues, grumpy. "She had a proper crush. Lasted a year, it was so annoying." 

"You're jealous." Yaz states, with a single, hitched eyebrow. 

The older woman scowls. "And you’re projecting." She responds, satisfied when Yaz almost chokes on her wine. 

"I'm n... What?" She clears her throat. "I'm not jealous, don't be daft."

"How would I know?" Missy smirks, happy to see dark irises muddled by a new, stunned shadow. "You could be, she’s your wife." 

Yaz gulps, shaking her head. "We're not..." She sighs. "Like that. And you know it." The accusation only widens Missy's sarcastic grin. 

"How would I know what's going on in your ridiculous human mind? It's like guessing what bugs think." 

Rolling her eyes, Yaz pushes herself away from the wall. "All right, nice chat. I've reached my daily limit of you today." She wanders further from the trouble-making Time Lady, Missy's clear laughter fading into background noise.

***************

Searching the crowd for Ryan's friendly face, Yaz sighs when she realizes security personal lined up in the hallway to guard the entrance. 

Her friend's assigned duty leaves her alone to duck interested strangers' greetings - the fake sympathy aimed her way by people trying to get close to the Lord-President is routine by now, their exaggerated smiles and compliments easy to spot - and try out the offered feast. 

After long minutes of gauging available food options, she’s about to dig into a colorful, juicy fruit coated with sugar when the bite slips between her fingers.

"Wouldn't do that.”

Raising a confused gaze, Yaz finds the Doctor regarding her with an apologetic scrunch of her nose. 

"Plumberry. They're not human-friendly, unless you want to grow an extra set of toes." 

"I'll pass." She deadpans, wriggling her boot-clad feet. 

"Anything else I can't eat?" Yaz wonders, considering the buffet with a new, suspicious eye. 

"Well..." The Doctor trails off and scans the plates with a deepening frown. "Most of the food. I'll have a chat with the kitchen staff tomorrow." 

"It's too bad you don't know who organized the party." Yaz reminds her playfully. 

"I'll find out." The Time Lord grumbles, grasping a piece of something that looks like dark chocolate. "You can try that, you only have about fifty percent chance of getting a nosebleed." 

"Thank you, but I think I'll stick to the sandwiches." Yaz counters, pointing to the familiar lunch food. 

"Suit yourself." The Doctor shrugs, tilting her head back to throw the food in her mouth. She freezes and waits a few seconds before grinning, triumphant. 

"See? No blood." Yaz's fond chuckle only widens her smile. "I was looking for you. Want to meet my friend?" 

The happy spark brightening emerald eyes quiets Yaz's intended reply, drawing a small nod out of her. When a hand grips her wrist gently, she follows the pull into the lively crowd, scowling her features in a neutral expression. 

Almost running into the Doctor's back when her friend comes to an abrupt stop, she glances up to find the Corsair observing her curiously. 

The redhead’s slow-spreading smirk captures Yaz’s attention. Between pearly white teeth and the flash of self-confidence shining through her pupils, a faint, magnetic reaction echoes deep in her chest.

It's almost enough to make the dark haired woman reconsider her first impression of the Time Lord. Almost. 

"Hello. It's very nice to meet you." A deep voice purrs, as the Corsair shakes Yaz's offered palm and tilts her head to press a greeting kiss to the back of her hand. 

"Oh, stop it." The Doctor interjects, rolling her eyes. "Corsair, meet Yaz. She's m..."

"I'm the wife." Yaz cuts off, the words falling before she can filter her thoughts. She ignores the Doctor's jaw clicking audibly shut at the not-too-subtle reminder of their public relationship.

Hands finding the pockets of her trousers, Yaz forces a smile. "And you're the Corsair. Missy mentioned you." 

The stranger laughs, overlooking the tinge of hostility coloring Yaz's voice. "All awful things, no doubt. I'm sure you know not to trust her by now, you look clever."

Taken back, Yaz scratches her neck at the unexpected compliment. "Thanks." She clears her throat, shuffling closer to the Doctor when piercing grey eyes hold her stare. 

"You've been friends a long time, then?" Her voice lilts on the last word as the taller woman approves. 

"Since the Academy." The Corsair replies. "The year someone started following me around." 

"Self-centered much?" The Doctor quips back. "We had the same classes, what was I supposed to do?"

"It was a good year. Remember that day you made a teacher quit?" 

"Depends." The blond smirks. "Which one?" 

Yaz's thoughts drift to the rhythm of the quick fire of anecdotes, her usual interest for the Doctor's past not enough to hold her attention. The easy familiarity between the two women sends a burst of longing in her chest, a mix of homesickness and envy, for a relationship built on years of friendship. 

"Looking for a partner, Yaz?" 

The Corsair's voice snaps the younger woman back to the party. Frowning when she realizes her unseeing, distracted gaze fell to a crowd of dancing couples, she shakes her head. 

"Are you sure?" The corner of her mouth twitches in a coy smirk. "Because I volunteer. I'm the best dancer this side of the universe."

"Now that's a lie. You can't dance unless you're drunk." The Doctor counters, touching Yaz's shoulder. "I'm up for it though, if you want." 

Caught between lingering melancholy and a gripping desire to be alone with the Doctor, Yaz considers the offer silently.

"I, erm..." She hesitates, eyes darting between the dancers and a patient green-brown gaze. "Don't really know." 

The Doctor's eyebrows hitch when she catches the dash of shakiness coloring her friend's reply. 

"Come on." She whispers, a gentle hand falling against Yaz's lower back as she pulls her forwards. "It's easy, I'll show you." 

Lingering at the edge of the dance floor, Yaz casts a questioning glance to the frozen woman at her side. The Doctor's head is tilted, perceptive eyes observing her quietly. 

"We don't have to d..."

"I want to." Yaz decides abruptly, already feeling more settled as she raises her palm. 

The Doctor grips it, her other hand returning to a spot near Yaz's hip. Mirroring the position, the younger woman's fingers trail along the Doctor's back, resting at the junction between her neck and shoulders. 

"This is nice." Yaz murmurs, after long minutes of silent swaying to the soft music. 

The Doctor's fluid movements catch her off-guard, as she twirls them around other couples with a sure grip and a hint of confidence. Yaz expected a mix of clumsy and chaotic, a style more fitted to the woman's personality. 

The Doctor hums in agreement, dipping her head to meet a quiet brown gaze. "Everything all right?" 

Nodding, Yaz shoves away the leftover bribes of memories that reminded her of home. The sharp sting of loneliness is hard to recall, with the warm, intimate way the Doctor holds her. 

"I'm fine. I got distracted is all." She smiles, charmed by the genuine concern staring back at her. 

"I promise." The hushed reassurance smooths the lines between the Time Lord's eyes. 

When the fingers on her hip slide across her lower back, Yaz tucks their joined hands against her chest, tipping forwards to rest her head against a nearby shoulder. 

The muted, constant thud echoing against her cheek makes her frown, until she grins, realizing it's the Doctor's twin heartbeats she's feeling.

Yaz's feet turn sore as they dance, aching in her boots when the group of musicians eventually stop for an overdue pause. She sighs, reluctantly shuffling back to meet a bewildered gaze. 

"That -" The Doctor's voice breaks on the word, before she clears her throat. "Was brilliant. Loved it. We should travel to Tigreer, they have intergalactic dancing competitions. Maybe we'd win. Never been a dancing champion before."

Fighting an amused smile at her friend's flustered ramble, Yaz easily agrees. "Sure. You're allowed a holiday, right?" 

The Doctor nods, her arms dropping against her sides when she notices the newly empty space around them. Yaz blinks, hands lingering against the collar of the blond's coat before she steps back tentatively. 

"I'll just..." With a steadying sigh, she points a thumb towards the crowded table on the opposite side of the room. "Food. You want something?”

Shaking her head, the Doctor gulps when Yaz disappears into the flow of moving people wandering around. 

With a noisy sigh, she wills her hands still as her hearts race in her chest, the ghost warmth of Yaz's body pressed against her own slowing her thoughts. 

The woman who's technically her wife always brought out powerful emotions in her, but what was initially a mix of admiration and physical attraction is growing into... Something else. 

A feeling that's more complex and much harder to control. 

Straightening her bow-tie with trembling fingertips, the Doctor freezes when a hand clasps her elbow. 

“What was that?”

Humming questioningly, the Doctor glances over her shoulder. The Corsair stares back, single eyebrow hitched. 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” The blond’s gaze drifts away, impatient. 

“I’m talking about you, looking at that woman like she’s the only person on Gallifrey.” 

“She has a name.” The Doctor bristles, lowering her voice. 

The Corsair tilts her head, intrigued. “Does she now?”

“Stop it.” The Time Lord snaps, tugging her friend closer. 

“Calm down.” She rolls her eyes. “You’re in love with your wife, is it some sort of secret?”

“I’m not...” The Doctor’s denial turns into a sigh. “ _That._ ” She scowls. “She’s my friend, I won’t make her uncomfortable with... Feelings.”

“Make her what?” The Corsair repeats, snickering. “Have you seen yourselves?” 

The redhead frowns in the lingering silence. “She’s looking at you the same way you look at her, Doc.”

There’s a hint of foreign warmth in her voice that makes the Doctor flinch. 

“Just... Stop. Please.” She pleads, fighting the sliver of hope lighting her thoughts. 

“All right.” The Corsair relents, the corner of her lips twitching in a roguish smirk. “You owe me a bit of gossip though. How did you meet her?”

Shoulders loosening at the new line of questioning, the Doctor can’t fight a wide grin as she launches into the tale of the mad circumstances that led to her first meeting with Yaz. 

An expression that doesn't escape the dark haired woman's intrigued gaze, from her spot near the room's colorful windows. She frowns, ignoring the uncomfortable fizzle in her stomach. 

That's _Yaz's_ grin. It's genuine, and happy, and it turns the Doctor's eyes a particular shade of sparkling emerald that fills her chest with warm affection. The Time Lord never smiled like that with anyone else, not until tonight. 

_How would I know you're not jealous? You could be, she is your wife._

The memory of Missy's voice only deepens her frown. _They're friends_ , Yaz's inner voice chimes in with a much needed rational argument. _You're the same way with Ryan._

Forcing her attention back to the Time Lords huddled together, Yaz breathes out a quiet gasp with the burning sensation that envelops her heart - faint, but undeniable - when the Doctor playfully pushes against the Corsair's shoulder. 

A loud click echoes through her head as Yaz pieces together disjointed memories from the last few months, and the quick succession of feelings she's sorting through. Gulping, she fights the realization that Missy is right. 

She is jealous. 

Except, she has no right to be. She's not in a relationship with the Doctor, despite their official status. They're friends, - best friends - and if she wonders about some of her occasional reactions to the other woman, Yaz prides herself with the tight reign she keeps over inconvenient emotions. 

She can't be jealous. 

Ignoring the twisting pull deep in her guts, she swallows the last bite of her sandwich and silently flees the party, heading back to the safety of her quarters.

***************

Refusing to light a fire to warm the front room, Yaz falls into the sofa and settles on its edge, hands covering her face. 

The space around her is cold, and dark, and it fits her mood in a satisfying way, while quiet minutes tick by. 

Alone, she allows herself to examine the conflicting emotions fighting in her head. The struggle to catch up with herself leaves her eyes wet and her heart aching, a sudden, gripping solitude coloring her reflection. 

Yaz suddenly realizes her own mistake - being lonely in a crowd would be a better option - and she's considering returning to the Spring celebration when the door creaks opened. 

"Yaz?" 

Glancing up, the younger woman sniffles when a blond head peeks into the room from the entrance. Their eyes meet, the Doctor tentatively stepping forwards when she catches sight of leftover tears rolling down her friend's cheek. 

"Can I come in?" 

A silent shrug later, the Doctor pads to the sofa and crouches on the ground, steadying herself with a palm against Yaz's knees. 

"What's wrong? Am I that bad at dancing?" 

The quip draws a reluctant smile from Yaz, mirrored by the Time Lord. "I looked for you everywhere, you know. Thought you were lost." 

"Weren't you busy with the Corsair?" Yaz prompts, careful to keep her voice neutral. 

"We were catching up, hadn't seen her since the Academy." The Doctor's eyebrows pinch together. "Is that the problem? Did you feel left out?" 

Yaz sighs, gaze drifting to the floor. Of course the Doctor would seek her out and try to comfort her, even if she’s struggling with what she knows is an irrational tantrum. 

Oblivious, the Time Lord tilts her head, remembering the conversation with her old friend. "We get caught up in old stories sometimes, sorry. I'll pay attention next t..."

Gripping into the lapels of the Doctor's coat, Yaz yanks her forwards and muffles the rest of her apology against her lips. 

The Doctor freezes for a split-second, closing her eyes. The fingers knotting into short blond hair act as an anchor, bringing her back to the moment, as her own hands sneak around Yaz's waist and trail up her spine, tugging on her shoulders. 

Sinking into the wordless request, Yaz melts forwards. She nuzzles the Doctor's soft skin, tilting her head when teeth scrape against her bottom lip, lingering until a soothing tongue replaces the sharp sensation. 

The contrast earns the Doctor a quiet moan, lost in her mouth as she deepens the kiss.

Running out of air, Yaz ignores the burn in her lungs for as long as she can, before being forced to shift away and draw an overdue breath in her chest. 

The Doctor blinks, and the brief eye contact is enough to brutally remind Yaz of their complicated relationship. She leans back into the sofa, stunned. 

"Yaz?" 

The Doctor's tentative voice tugs at Yaz's heart, as she clenches her teeth. "Sorry." She fumbles through a quick apology, ignoring the warm tingle on her lips. 

"I didn't mean to..." Yaz hesitates, springing to her feet to put some much-needed distance between them. "It won't happen again." 

"Don't do that." The Doctor speaks up, after an awkward, stretching silence. 

"What?" Yaz frowns, confused. 

"Give me hope, and take it away. You can't just..." The Doctor runs a hand through her hair, gulping. "Play with my feelings." 

Tipped off-balance by the blunt words, Yaz snaps. "You have feelings? That's new." 

Closing her eyes as she instantly regrets the answer that spills from her mouth, she looks up in time to see a flash of aghast, genuine hurt dim hazel irises. 

"Is it?" The Doctor croaks, standing as she scowls her features in an unreadable expression. 

"Must not know me very well then." She throws over her shoulder, slipping into her bedroom without glancing back. 

Left alone with a new ache in her chest and bitter tears stinging her eyes, Yaz gasps. Without any conscious decision on her part, her feet take her to the door, as she leaves a confused, heavy-hearted Time Lord behind. 

***************

Yaz hears the door slam behind her, legs already guiding her down a familiar path leading to the Citadel's library. 

Quickening her pace to a full-on run, Yaz focuses on the rhythm of her heart pounding against her ribs, boots hitting the cold pavement in muted thuds. 

Reaching the tower, she flattens a palm against the wooden surface and tries the doorknob. When the mechanism refuses to budge, she blinks and feels her eyes grow wide in realization. 

It's the middle of the night, of course the library is closed. 

"Mate, you’re _fast_." 

Yaz jumps when a voice breaks the still, darkened atmosphere around her. "Ryan?" She croaks out, surprised by her rough voice. 

"Hey." He greets softly, bending at the waist to catch his breath. "I saw you running, I just wanted to make sure everything's okay." 

Eyelids fluttering, Yaz breathes through the now familiar sting of tears. She straddles a nearby stone bench, watching Ryan join her and rest his back against the wall. 

Thankful for the patient - if charged - silence, Yaz struggles to sort through her jumbled thoughts. "I don't..." She trails off, voice morphing into a heavy sigh. 

"Whatever it is, you can tell me." Ryan encourages, awkwardly patting Yaz's shoulder. "What happened?" 

Elbows settled on her knees, she hides her face in her palm. "We kissed." The quiet admission reminds her of soft lips pressed against her own, as she screws her eyes shut. 

"You... Kissed the Doctor." Ryan repeats, intrigued. "And that's bad." 

"Of course, it's bad." Yaz groans, frowning. 

"Why? She’s your wife." 

"Exactly. We're stuck together, we can't just leave if something goes wrong. We had to work so hard, just to be friends, Ry.” She gulps, head filled with memories of the last few months. 

“And I love what we have now. It's easy, and fun, and I don't feel so lonely all the time." Yaz explains, praying for her friend to understand. 

"If something goes wrong." Ryan repeats, tilting his head. "Did she reject you?" 

"No." Yaz replies and resolutely shoves away the image of pain-filled hazel pupils. "She didn't. It's just..." She groans, fighting a blossoming headache at the back of her skull. 

"She's my best friend. I'm not having our relationship turn awkward, because I couldn't control my feelings." 

Confused by Yaz’s reasoning, Ryan decides to return to the discussion tomorrow, when her emotions stop boiling. 

"All right." He simply says, comforting. "Mistakes happen. You're tired, the party was stressful... Maybe you can tell her the kiss was a one-time sort of thing. You know the Doctor, she'd nev..." 

"I can't.” She argues, forehead dropping back against her hand.

“It wasn't the first time." Yaz confesses as Ryan freezes, eyes growing wide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick warning: I have no plan to bring the Corsair back. Yaz was jealous of Missy in my first two versions, but it completely clashed with their dynamics, so I needed someone new!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This flashback wasn’t meant to be so long (or so fluffy). The plot will only resume in the next chapter! 
> 
> Thank you again for all the support, I appreciate all kinds of feedbacks :-D

"I can't.” She argues, forehead dropping back against her hand.

“It wasn't the first time." Yaz confesses as Ryan freezes, eyes growing wide.

"What?" 

The corner of Yaz's lips twitches in a thoughtless smile, eyelids fluttering as she recalls the first time she kissed the Doctor...

***************

"Why do they need us?" Yaz complains, fiddling with the long sleeves of her jumper. "Aren't fairs supposed to be fun?" 

"Hm." The Doctor confirms absentmindedly, opening a door and nodding her forwards. "I think it's nice."

"What?"

"Not that they're overthinking their stand." She waves off, thinking back of the anxious men requesting their help to prepare for the fair. 

"That they asked for our opinions. They never would have asked Rassilon." The Doctor shrugs, with a small smile.

Yaz returns the expression, her stomach flipping at the hint of pride in her friend's voice. The Doctor's concern about what Gallifreyans think of her presidency is one of her favorite thing about the woman, and she has to silence a wave of fond affection.

"Yeah." Yaz approves, her interest for the evening's activity rekindled. "You're growing on people."

The Doctor's nose scrunches in confusion. "Growing? Like a plant?" 

"They like you, idiot." She chuckles, shaking her head.

"Oh, yeah. I knew that." At the dark haired woman's skeptical, hitched eyebrow, she insists. "I did! I just... Forgot." 

Clearing her throat, she gathers her flustered thoughts with a teasing smirk. "What about you? Do you like me?"

"Eh." Yaz bites back a smile. "You'll do." 

"Yaz!" 

The younger woman trudges forwards, holding another door opened as the Doctor freezes behind her, outraged. She grins, motioning for the Time Lord to cross the threshold with a flourish of her hand. 

“I’m just saying, they should have warned us.” Yaz sighs, as they climb the long stairway leading to the audience room. “I had plans.”

“Plans.” The Doctor repeats, fighting a smile. “Did your plan involve me, a fireplace and a book?” 

Yaz sends a playful glare to the side, fighting the heat coloring her cheeks. The description fits their new evening routine, a spontaneous habit they both fell into once she started to borrow books from the library more regularly. 

It's easy, and comfortable, and domestic in a way that caught Yaz off-guard. She genuinely enjoys chirping away at the Doctor’s flimsy, casual exterior. The Time Lord’s sharp intelligence was always obvious, but it’s the mix of sarcastic humor and thoughtful compassion coloring their talks that lays the foundations of a solid friendship. 

“Shut up.”

The Doctor snickers as they enter the audience room that was transformed for the evening. 

The mostly bare space has been filled with round tables, lined up in front of the platform usually holding the Lord-President’s chair. Instead, a small stand faces the growing crowd, covered with plates and jars of ingredients. 

A hand falls against Yaz’s lower back, gently guiding her to the table nearest the platform before pulling out a chair. Blinking, a dark gaze flickers between the offered seat and the Doctor’s slow frown. 

“Supposed to sit, Yaz. I’m trying to be a gentlewoman.”

"Thank you." She whispers, flattening her jumper as the other woman slides in next to her. Distracting herself from the hint of contact between their thighs, Yaz observes her surroundings. 

Banners usually hung to hide the windows lay on the stone floor, starlight filtering through colorful glass in tiny sparkles that catch into the flames of candles. The crowd progressively filling the room is quiet, heightening the formal atmosphere in a stark contrast to the casual audiences held between the same four walls. 

"Weird, isn't it?" The Doctor whispers, following her friend's gaze. "They're much quieter. Maybe we should hold audiences at night." She teases, glad to see the tension in Yaz's features ease a touch. 

"No way." She leans in, lowering her voice. "I told you, I'm busy." 

The whisper warms the Doctor's cheek, sending her hearts racing. "Right. Forgot about your very important night plans." 

A sudden, muffled noise interrupts the banter, drawing the Doctor's head up. Noticing the general attention glued to the doors, she stands when she catches sight of a familiar woman. The newcomer meets her eyes, grinning. 

Confused by the abrupt movement, Yaz scrambles to her feet and joins the other occupants of the room, all respectfully watching the stranger makes her way across the aisle. She tilts her head, surprised to see the short, dark skinned woman fall into a chair on the opposite side of their table. 

"I don't know what you were thinking, inviting me here." The woman glares at the Doctor, sighing. "I was already old when you were born, what makes you think I know anything about wine?"

"You weren't." Settling back in her seat, the Doctor rolls her eyes. "Maybe I've missed you. We never see you anymore."

She offers a grim smile. "I've earned my retirement, don't you think?" Glancing away from the Doctor's contrite smile, her attention turns to Yaz. "I suppose you're the wife." 

"Ah, yes." Blinking, Yaz sits straighter against the wooden backrest. "I'm Y..."

"Yasmin Khan." The woman completes, her eyes narrowed. "I know."

"Didn't know you were paying attention to gossip." The Doctor cuts in, spotting Yaz's uncomfortable squirming.

The stranger snickers. "It's impossible to avoid. Especially when my successor goes missing for weeks."

"Your succ..." Yaz starts, intrigued. 

"Of course." She crosses her arms. "I was married to Rassilon." 

"Larna is a professor too." The Doctor explains further, watching her friend's struggle to keep up with the conversation. "Taught me at the Academy." 

Larna’s shoulders shake in silent laughter. "I didn't teach you anything, I tried to keep up with your endless complaints about our non-interference policy. You were a nightmare." 

"I had questions." The Doctor counters, shrugging. "Nothing wrong with questions." 

Yaz takes in Larna's carefree demeanor, gaze darting between her sparkling pupils and wide grin. A nagging feeling at the back of her mind distracts her from the conversation, eyes narrowing as she observes the happy woman. 

"But Rassilon is dead." Yaz points out suddenly, catching up with her own thoughts. "He was assassinated a few months ago." 

"Yes." The Doctor confirms, confused by the interruption. "Five months. Why?" 

Larna crosses her arms, tilting her head in Yaz's direction. "I think your wife is wondering why I'm not grieving, Doctor." 

Hazel eyes grow wide, while the younger woman tries to backtrack. 

"No, it's not..." Yaz trails off, embarrassed by her own impulsive assumption. "It's just, I'm..." Sighing, she bites her lip. "Sorry. I'm surprised, I don't want to offen..."

"It's fine. We can’t all be as lucky as you and your Doctor.” The flustered reaction softens Larna's features, biting back a knowing smile when Yaz's blush deepens. 

"I'm guessing you don't know much about Rassilon." A quiet head shake later, she nods somberly. "We knew each other as children. He was my best friend. I didn't even think when he asked me to marry him, when he was named Lord-President."

The grey-haired woman’s eyes glaze over. "That man I missed dearly. The man who used to pick me up from work every day, and cook dinner for us. But I've grieved for him, a long time ago." 

"Power is an intoxicating feeling, and it changed him. He became..." Exhaling through her noise, her voice hardens. "Selfish, unwilling to hear anyone who had a different opinion than him, even me. He was almost cruel, sometimes. That's why he stayed in place for so long, everyone was too scared to oppose him." 

Huffing, Larna shrugs, lips parted on the end of her tale when a voice coming from the other side of the room interrupts. 

“Attention, please. We're ready to start." The old man in charge of a vineyard launches himself into a greetings speech, a welcomed distraction for the widow. 

Yaz shifts her attention to the platform, catching a glimpse of movement from the corner of her eyes. When a hand grips her wrist, nails digging into the sleeve of her jumper, she raises her head to face the Doctor's intense gaze. 

"Doctor?" She whispers, touching the fingers clutched around her arm. "What's wrong?" 

The question brings fiery hazel eyes to her face, shining with a storm of emotions. "Promise me something." 

Blinking, Yaz's breath catches in her throat. "What?" 

"If I ever become like him, tell me." She gulps. "Or leave. But don't..." Gentled pupils falling on the back of Larna's head, the Doctor pushes the words through a suddenly tight throat. "Don't let me hurt you."

Yaz breathes in, considering the request. The racing heartbeats she can feel echoing where their hands touch, and the hint of gripping fear seeping through the Doctor's voice loosen the concerned knot in her chest. 

"I promise." She assures, smiling when the pressure around her palm eases. She holds the tension-filled stare for a long moment, before brushing her lips against the Doctor's cheek. "But you're nothing like him." 

Redirecting her attention to the man speaking, Yaz misses widened hazel eyes and reverent fingers gingerly touching the skin she kissed. Larna doesn't, pursing her lips to fight a satisfied grin.

***************

The next hour is spent tasting a wide variety of wines, half full cups piling up to the rhythm of a staccato voice describing the subtleties differentiating each one. 

Concluding his speech, the man hops from the platform, rounds the tables and fetches a notepad where he jots down guests' reviews, while his crew delivers samples of grapes and bread-filled baskets to each table. 

Reaching for the tray, Yaz grabs a fruit between her thumb and index finger. The bite is inches away from her lips, when a stunned gasp freezes her movement. She scans the table, frowning when she finds the source of the noise.

“What’s... Wrong?” Yaz asks the redhead woman staring at her, eyebrows furrowed and jaw slacked. 

“The Lord-President is supposed to have the first choice.” Larna explains, the corner of her lips twitching

Yaz’s gaze dart between the grape and the Doctor’s unhappy sigh, the blond waving away the concern. “It’s fine. Go ahead.” Throwing an exasperated glare to the gasping woman, she mumbles. “And they say we’re the most advanced civilization in the universe.”

Yaz snickers, before leaning into the Doctor’s space, following a burst of courage. 

“I don’t mind.” She chances, offering the fruit to a stunned Time Lord. 

The Doctor gulps, eyes flickering between a hand and the teasing pupils facing her. Catching the hint of a smirk, she inhales sharply and moves, teeth closing neatly around Yaz’s thumb. 

The dark haired woman's breath hitches when a tongue wriggles the fruit loose from her grasp, mouth suddenly dry as the Doctor’s lips linger against the tip of her fingers. 

“Good?” She croaks, when the Doctor straightens in her seat. 

“Great.” The Time Lord responds, a hint of brash confidence to her trademark grin. “Thank you.”

Cursing the way her heart pounds against her ribs, Yaz abruptly remembers the other guests gathered around the table. She clears her throat, ignoring the way her cheeks flare in the suddenly-too-warm room. 

Sensitive hearing picking up on Yaz’s heartbeat, the Doctor shuffles closer, drawing her friend against her side.

“Sorry.” She whispers, scrunching her nose when Yaz glances up. “But you started it.”

“Shut up.” Yaz sinks into the contact, smiling despite herself. She briefly holds the side-hug, letting go to reach for another grape when Larna addresses her. 

“Rumors say you’re from Arcadia.”

“Yes.” She confirms, thankful for the distraction. "My entire family is from th..."

"Me too." Larna interrupts, with a wistful smile. "Do they still have that public market?" 

"Yes!" Yaz grins, childhood memories of dragging her parents between stalls flooding her brain. "Every month. I used to pass by, when I left work."

"What did you do?" 

"I was a teacher." She blinks, the faint tug of nostalgia coloring her answer. "At an elementary school." 

"Teaching what?" Larna prompts, catching the Doctor's captivated gaze glued to her wife's profile. 

"Erm, self-defense. I covered a bit of martial arts, with some first aid training." Yaz remembers. 

"Which one?" The Doctor interrupts, catching the dark haired woman off-guard. 

"What?" 

"Which martial art? I do Venusian Aikido."

Yaz laughs, reaching for a cup of her favorite wine. "You're missing a few arms for Venusian Aikido," 

"Am I?" The combination of single hitched eyebrow and mock seriousness makes Yaz pause. 

"Hold on, you're serious." Eyes growing wide with her memories of the ancient martial art that's traditionally practiced by eight-arm Venusians, she grips the blond's wrist. "Can you show me?" 

"Sure." The Doctor agrees easily, tilting her head. "You know you can have the same job here, yeah?"

The stretching silence that answers her question - interrupted only by Yaz's eyelids fluttering quickly - forces the Doctor to reconsider her offer. "Or you can keep spending your days in the library, books are amazi..."

"Could I really be a teacher?" Yaz asks softly.

"Of course." The Doctor frowns. "Did I not tell you before?" 

Shaking her head, Yaz fights hope-filled memories of her old pupils. She loved her job, and watching children grow more confident every time they exited her class gave her a thrill she still hasn't found anywhere in the Capitol. 

"Sorry." The Doctor scowls. "I should have." 

Toying with the possibility in her head, Yaz grins. “I’d love that."

"I'll help, we can look into it tomorrow. But why don't you..." Carefully, the Doctor ponders her next words. Hurting her friend is the last thing she wants, but she's curious about the reason leading the woman to keep such a significant period of her life to herself, especially after seeing the delighted spark tinting the memories she shared with Larna. 

"You never tell me about your life in Arcadia. Why not?" 

"Well..." Yaz trails off, with a pointed look to their surroundings. "It's not as interesting as life here." She glances up at the muffled, disheartened noise of protest from the Doctor. 

"Yes, it is." Jaw slacked, the Doctor scrambles for a coherent objection. "Why would you think oth..."

"You can travel through time and space. We can..." She shrugs with a sheepish smile. "Make really good soup." 

"I do miss that soup." Larna chimes in, raising from her chair. "But I'll leave you to your conversation. I need to sleep off the wine." 

The Doctor blinks, reminded of her old teacher sitting at their table as she notices the majority of other guests missing. "Are you sure?" 

"We can't all run on sugar and sheer determination to never rest, Doctor. Have a good night." She tilts her head, aiming a smile towards the younger woman. "You too, Yaz." 

With a grin and a polite nod, she returns the parting words before allowing her attention to turn back to the woman at her side. "It's fine, Doc. Really. I'm not hiding any deep, dark secret from my childhood."

"I don't care if you are." The Time Lord pleads softly. "You don't have to tell me anything, but I just... I'd like to know. And you can't think your life before you came here wasn't important, because it was." She sighs, frowning. "So important."

“Can I ask a question?” Yaz says, twirling the last sip of wine in her glass as silence lingers over them. 

“Always.”

The hint of earnest warmth coloring the Doctor’s voice makes Yaz pause, blinking. “Larna said...” She clears her throat. “She knew Rassilon when they were children, that's why he asked her to marry him. Didn’t you have anyone you could ha...”

The Doctor blows out a noisy breath, gaze drifting to the ground until Yaz realizes the implications behind her question. 

“I’m not complaining.” She corrects hastily. The circumstances that led her to a life in the Citadel is not a subject she likes to dwell on, preferring to focus on the unexpected friends she found in the unwelcoming city. 

"Didn't you have friends, growing up?" 

The Doctor hums, eyes glazing over. "Erm... We weren't particularly close. Couldn't see myself living with any of them." 

"Not even Missy?" 

Eyebrows disappearing behind her fringe, the Doctor scrunches her nose in horror. "Especially not Missy. We're awful for each other." 

She inhales sharply, remembering her last years at the Academy. "Never really fit in with other Time Lords, and we weren't supposed to make friends with Gallifreyans. I'm sorry you were caught up in all of th..." 

"Then how did you get elected?" Yaz fires up the first question that pops into her head, determined to avoid thinking about the family she left in Arcadia. She misses them, despite the now regular letters they exchange. "The Lord-President gets voted in, right?" 

They're sitting close enough for Yaz to feel the sudden tension gripping her friend's body, the Doctor gauging the empty room with an oddly suspicious gaze. 

"Come on." She stands, motioning to the entrance. "Not a conversation we can have here."

***************

The Doctor slips into their quarters first, rounding the front room to glance through the outside door. Satisfied to find the space empty, she turns an expectant gaze to her friend who's lingering near the entrance. 

Slowly, Yaz pads closer until she can see through the glass, taking in the moonlight reflecting on the balcony's gate that throws a silver, eerie glow over them, before facing the blond. 

With a deep breath, the Doctor holds a questioning stare. 

"What I'm about to tell you can't leave this room." She warns, whispering. "You can't tell Ryan, you can't tell Graham, and you especially can't write to your family about it." 

Eyebrows knitted together, Yaz nods. "What's wrong?" 

The Doctor gulps, steadying herself with a palm against the French doors. "Rassilon was assassinated."

"Yes." Yaz confirms, impatient. "I know that, what's so imp..."

"I told the High Council I had him killed." 

"You what?" Yaz fires back, eyes growing wide. "Did you do it?"

"Come on, Yaz." She frowns, unhappy. "Of course I didn't." 

"Then why would you say that?"

Running a hand down her face, the Doctor glances into the cloudless sky. "The General was next in the line of succession, and I didn't trust him to negotiate peace with our enemies. Had to prove I was the best for the job, and there's nothing Time Lords respect more than a ruthless plot to achieve one's goal." 

"So, you're Lord-President, because the High Council was impressed that you killed the old Lord-President." 

"Yes." 

"But then..." Yaz trails off, reviewing the facts. "Who killed Rassilon?" 

"No idea. But he was awful to everyone, including his wife." The Doctor sighs. "Mostly with Larna. Does it really matter who killed h..."

"Yes!" Yaz snaps, lips parted. "They're still free, somewhere. You could be in danger, what if you're next?" 

"Well, haven't died yet." She shrugs. "They must like the way I run the place." 

"It's not funny, you have to be careful." The younger woman argues, crossing her arms.

"Right, sorry." The Doctor smiles, sheepish. "I can protect myself. Venusian Aikido, remember?" 

Yaz hums, throwing one arm around the Time Lord's shoulders, slinging the other around her waist, and dragging her into a hug. The Doctor melts against her, head finding a familiar resting spot at the junction between Yaz's neck and collarbone. 

"I'll keep you safe." Yaz swears, words whispered against ruffled blond hair.

"You don't have to." The Doctor's arms squeeze tighter around her, voice dropping. "Don't worry about me."

"I care about you, of course I worry." Yaz counters, drawing courage from the lack of eye contact. "Remember what Larna said. You're _my_ Doctor." 

She feels more than she hears the blond gasp, as the Doctor slowly loosens the embrace. Her fingers trace Yaz's hairline, brushing back strands that fell from her bun. 

"Do you mean that?" 

With a careful nod, Yaz’s palms travel down the Time Lord's back, finding purchase against her hips. She can feel her breath against her cheek, a warm, intimate sensation that echoes pleasantly in her chest. 

The Doctor blinks, caught by the magnetic pull of Yaz’s softened gaze, the mix of determination and concern sparkling under the moonlight.

"Your eyes look like stars." 

Yaz lets out an incredulous chuckle - because _who says that?_ \- and closes the gap between them to press her lips to the Doctor's. She keeps the contact light, her thumbs rubbing soothing circles against blue trousers, before she tilts her head back. 

With a mumbled protest, a soft, pliant mouth finds Yaz's again, coaxing a loud gasp from her throat when the tip of the Doctor's tongue sweeps against her bottom lip. The dark haired woman frowns again, the teasing sensation fading before she has a chance to deepen the kiss. 

“Okay?” The Doctor checks, pupils blown. 

“Better than okay.” She assures. A slow-spreading smirk answers Yaz's insistent tug against the blond’s hips. 

“Are you sure?” The fresh memory of Yaz gasping draws the question from the Doctor. 

"I'm surprised is all. You never had a hug before me, I assum..."

“I’m from a power obsessed species.” The Doctor starts, pulling on Yaz’s wrist to guide her to the more comfortable purple sofa. "We do romance, and sex, and everything else Gallifreyans do, without the emotions you lot put everywhere."

"I don't understand." Yaz objects, sitting and nudging her way under the Doctor's arm to rest her head against her shoulder. 

"Marriages are lifelong alliances, where parties agree to live together." She recites, ignoring the dull ache in her chest. "It’s two people, who think they can help each other achieve their goals. That's all there is to it, there's no place for love, or comfort, or trust." 

"Or this." Yaz adds, pointedly glancing to the Doctor's arms holding her close, fingertips dancing against the side of her neck. The slow realization knits the younger woman's eyebrows together. "But you love hugs."

The Doctor hums. "Told you. I never really fitted in." 

Yaz raises a slow hand, palm slipping to the Doctor's opposite shoulder. She ponders the explanation, the image of the lonely world the Time Lord grew up in plucking at her heart.

Toying with the end of blond hair touching her skin, Yaz wraps thin strands around her fingers and tugs gently, bringing the woman's eyes to her own. "You fit in with me." 

"Do I?" The Doctor teases, her trademark grin sparkling in the dark, quiet room. 

“Yeah.” Yaz leans up, taking the blond’s bottom lip between her own. “See?” She adds, after a gentle pull of her teeth earns an approving hum. 

“Not sure.” The Doctor whispers, eyes glistening. “Might want to show me again.”

Much later, when Yaz's eyelids turn heavy, she dips her head and nuzzles further against the Doctor's neck, slinging her arms around her waist. Surprised, the older woman hesitates before she returns the embrace, squeezing gently with Yaz's content sigh. 

"We should go to bed." 

A faint, unhappy murmur is her only response, leaving the Doctor to rest her cheek against the top of Yaz's head, settling deeper into the sofa as she eases into the pull of sleep. 

Beds are rubbish anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s a reason why the events of this chapter didn’t affect their relationship (... or did they?). It’s all going to make sense in the end though!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first part is the rest of the flashback (which is definitely not fluffy, that's why I cut it in half).
> 
> This chapter took me a while to get out, because I really wanted to get it right. I thought going a little deeper on how Yaz is feeling was important. I hope everyone enjoys 😊

_Yaz emerges from a restful sleep alone on the sofa, a blanket tucked under her chin._

_Blinking, she scans the front room and finds the Doctor facing a boiling kettle, whistling as she reaches for the jar of biscuits on the counter. Yaz clears her throat softly._

_The noise catches the Time Lord's attention, her gaze snapping to the younger woman with a smile._

_Water poured into two cups, she makes her way to the couch and perches upon their new coffee table, as Yaz slowly sits up and wraps her hands around a warm mug._

_"Good morning."_

_The hot tea sinking through Yaz’s chest clears the last traces of sleep from her brain, bringing back memories of the Doctor's lips against her own, gentle fingers trailing up and down her spine._

_Looking up, she startles when she notices intense green-brown pupils observing her, blond head tilted in concentration._

_"Good morning." Yaz returns, holding the stare in the stretching silence that grows progressively heavier on her mind._

_The Doctor should be spurting questions about her plans for the day by now, sparkled with a few complaints about her own schedule._

_The rapid-fire conversation is a much more active routine than what Yaz's slow-waking brain grew up with, but it quickly became a cornerstone of her mornings, along with the mug of tea cradled between her hands._

_Is what happened yesterday already threatening their easy-going relationship?_

_Yaz gnaws at her bottom lip, worried. Fingers clenched around porcelain, she scrambles for the right words to break the tense, expectation-filled silence. What if speaking about what happened worsens the awkward atmosphere?_

_If only there was a way to go back, and ch... She freezes, considering the idea slowly building in her mind as fear plucks at her heart._

_Yaz's gaze falls back into the dark liquid in her cup. She swirls the tea around and squares her shoulders, allowing the anxiety bubbling in her chest to guide her next words. "I hope you didn't let me embarrass myself last night."_

_Yaz raises her head, frowning slowly when the Doctor's jaw falls open. "I can't remember what happened." She explains. "Too much wine."_

_The Doctor blinks, an unreadable shadow flashing through her eyes, until she downs the rest of her tea._

_"I don't remember either, should be more careful next time." Forcing a tight smile, the Time Lord stands, pointing to the door behind her. "I have a thing - meeting - for work. Better get a shift on, I'll see you tonight."_

_The quick agreement solidifies Yaz's decision as she watches the woman leave, not keen on being the one to remind her of the previous evening's events. Rounding up her memories, Yaz firmly pushes them in a corner of her mind, locking away the ghost sensation of the Doctor kissing down her neck._

_They're friends. A friendship that brightens Yaz's new life, and anchors the restless energy that threatens to drown her whenever she thinks of her home. It's enough._

_It has to be._

***************

Yaz still can't explain the odd atmosphere that forced them to tiptoe around each other for a few days after that awkward morning. She eventually diffused the tension with an earnest attempt to cook, the end result burnt to a crisp and leaving their quarters drowned in smoke. 

The meal ended in a fit of shared, freeing giggles, the Doctor’s hand instinctively lacing with Yaz's as they made their way down to the kitchen in a wordless truce. 

"She said my eyes looked like stars, Ryan. What was I supposed to do?" Yaz concludes her story, skimming over the details of the Doctor's confession about Rassilon's assassination. 

The man blinks, processing the flow of information. Catching his bottom lip between his teeth, he frowns. 

"What?" 

"It's just... You know Time Lords can't get drunk, right?" 

Yaz gasps silently, struggling to draw a steadying breath into her lungs. "What?" She repeats again, in a whisper. 

"Unless there was ginger in what you were drinking." An answering, hesitant head shake later, he continues. "Then she wasn't drunk." 

"Why didn't she tell me?" Yaz grumbles, huffing. "Doesn't she think I'd like to know if she remembers us snogging?" 

"You did the same thing." Ryan points out, slowly.

"Because I was scared." 

"Maybe she was scared too." 

"She's a Time Lord."

Ryan recoils, observing his friend's lowered head with a deepening frown."What are you going on about?" He murmurs under his breath, fighting a hint of disappointed understanding. 

Sorting through his racing thoughts, he decides to confront Yaz about her own contradictions, hoping it won't make the situation more complicated. "You're right." 

The dark haired woman raises her eyes, confused. "Am I?" 

"She's a Time Lord." Ryan repeats, nodding. "She’s probably manipulating you.”

Yaz straightens her back and turns to face her friend. “What?”

“You know, getting close to you to make sure you won’t leave.”

“I’m... Ryan, she wouldn't.” She denies, shaking her head. 

“Are you sure?” Ryan watches Yaz’s unhappy frown patiently. “Remember, Graham told us she needs you to stay Lord-President. And you know them...” He trails off with a shrug. “There’s nothing they like more than power.”

“The Doctor is not like that.” Yaz repeats, springing to her feet. “You don’t...” Scrambling for words, she paces in the narrow space between the wall and the library's gate. “She’s... Not like the others.”

“Why not?”

“She wants to help, I’ve seen her in audiences. She cares about people.“

“Hm.” Ryan approves wordlessly, fighting the smile twitching at the corner of his lips. 

“And we're friends! She listens to what I think, she's always so sweet with me, Ryan.” Fighting the heat coloring her cheeks, Yaz trudges through the embarrassment. "Sometimes she looks at me, and it's like we're the only two people in the world." 

Ryan breaks, bending over in a sudden burst of laughter. 

Yaz blinks and watches her friend's reaction, bewildered. "What?" 

The wheezing sound coming out of his mouth as he struggles to explain himself forces Yaz to reconsider her own words. She gasps, faltering when a muted click echoes at the back of her mind, before dropping next to Ryan on the bench with a heavy, blown-out breath. 

“I have a crush on my wife.” 

“Oh, mate.” Ryan snickers, clasping her nearest shoulder. “Bit more than a crush.” 

“Shut up.” Yaz mumbles, hands covering her face. “I’m not...” She gulps, refusing to delve deeper into her feelings for the Doctor. “It’s a crush.”

“Fine.” He raises his hands in surrender. “What are you going to do?” 

“Nothing!” Yaz snaps. “What am I supposed to do? I just told her she doesn’t have feelings.”

“Apologize? And tell her how you feel. I know the Doctor is oblivious, but I’m pretty sure she caught on. You kissed her twice.” Ryan offers, battling another bout of laughter. “And she looks at you like you're the only person in the world.”

“Shut up.” Yaz repeats, groaning. "I'm never speaking to you again."

"Why? Am I not sweet enough for you?" 

Ignoring the teasing question, she jumps to her feet and starts down the trail leading back to her chambers. The persistent sound of Ryan's chuckles fades away, leaving her alone to put words to the mix of regretful guilt, fear and confusion twirling in her head.

***************

Cautiously easing the door open, Yaz slips into the front room of their quarters. She toes her boots off, squaring her shoulders as she pads to the Doctor's bedroom. 

Peeking her head through the threshold, the younger woman blinks in the near complete darkness. The Doctor is laying on her side, her back to the entrance of the room, buried under a pile of blankets. 

"Doctor?" 

Yaz frowns in the lingering silence, about to delay her apology as her hand hovers near the door handle. A hint of movement travels through the blurry shape on the bed, the Doctor sighing in a silent acknowledgment that freezes her feet. 

“I know you have feelings.” Yaz starts, her voice breaking on the last syllable. “Of course, I do. It’s one of my favorite things about you, how big your hearts are.” 

Leaning against the door frame, she struggles in the uncharacteristic quietness that answers her. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

The single word draws the younger woman away from the entrance, cautiously moving closer to the bed. She hesitates near the empty side of the mattress, wringing her hands together. 

“I don’t know. Seeing you with the Corsair, it made me feel... Weird.”

"The Corsair is my friend." The Doctor states, her back to Yaz. "Don't have many of those." 

"I know." Yaz assures. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have..."

"You're friends with Ryan and Graham, what's so different?" 

"Nothing." She shakes her head. "I was wrong. I don't even know her, I'm sure she's v..."

"And why were you crying?" The Doctor interrupts, more confused than accusatory, as she flops on her back to stare at the ceiling. "I don't understand." 

Yaz breathes in, tentatively sitting on the bed. When the other woman's only reaction is an anxious stare, she settles against the headboard, crossing her legs as she struggles to gather her thoughts. 

Catching the Doctor's worried frown, Yaz decides she owes her the truth. She already embarrassed herself in front of Ryan tonight, she can survive one more cheesy confession. 

“You have this smile..." She trails off, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. "It shows off your dimples. Right here." Shakily, Yaz's hand inches closer to the Doctor's face, the pad of her fingers tracing the lines at the corner of her mouth. 

The Time Lord's breath hitches at the touch, her gaze brightened by a spark of sudden understanding. 

"And it makes your eyes look so soft..." Muffling a sound of self-annoyance, Yaz wishes she could string a full sentence together without her brain stuttering. 

A tentative hand covers her knee, and she glances up to find the Doctor propped up on her elbow. Yaz narrows her thoughts to the solid warmth on her skin, and the patient affection staring back at her, allowing words to spill from her lips. 

"I know I sound like a jealous idiot, but you only smile like that when you're with me..." She sighs. "Or with the Corsair, I guess. I saw you two talking, and I just had to get away." 

"When?" The Doctor asks quietly, following a faint hunch at the back of her mind. "When did I smile like that?" 

"After I left to get food. I was eating my sandwich, and I saw you tw..."

"We were talking about you. She asked how we met." The blond explains, softening her voice as Yaz's jaw slacks open. 

"The Corsair is my friend. But she doesn't make me forget how to speak, and my hearts don't feel like they're about to beat out of my chest when we touch." Pausing, she inhales sharply. "That's just you, Yaz." 

The Doctor falls silent, her hand tracing meaningless patterns against Yaz's trousers. The younger woman watches the restless touch move up and down her leg, huffing quietly. 

"We have to talk about this, don't we?"

"Afraid so." The Doctor scrunches her nose, uncomfortable. "Can it wait for tomorrow?" 

"Yes." She confirms, glad for the temporary truce as she reluctantly shuffles near the edge of the mattress. "Good nig..."

The Doctor's hand bunches into the material covering her knee, freezing her motion. "Stay?" 

"Sure." Yaz easily agrees as she ignores the faint flush coloring her cheeks at the blond's answering grin. 

The handful of times they shared a bed in the past didn't bring much sleep, but left the dark haired woman with a smile on her lips and a warmth settled in her heart for the next few days. Yaz shimmers out of her jacket, leaving her in a white shirt and loose trousers as she slides under the blankets. 

Laying her head on a pillow, the tension in Yaz's shoulders eases with the familiar scent - lemon shampoo, soap and a hint of something metallic - surrounding her. She closes her eyes, turning her palm when a thumb nudges against the side of her hand, before fingers weave with her own in a gentle squeeze. 

Their intertwined hands rest in the narrow gap between them, as the Doctor nestles her head against her pillow and allows her thoughts to narrow on the grounding, familiar touch. She relaxes into the pull of slumbler with a peaceful grin.

***************

Minutes tick by, the Doctor's slow, regular breathing breaking through silence. Yaz gulps, laying on her back as she realizes her mistake. Without the distraction of their conversation, there's nothing to keep her from spiraling about Ryan's earlier revelation.

If the Doctor wasn't drunk the night they kissed, why did she pretend to forget? 

Ryan's guess - fear - doesn't make sense. Why would the Doctor be scared of Yaz of all people? Her best friend is a known psychopath, and even the prospect of having an assassin run freely around the Capitol doesn’t seem to faze her. 

Could it be... Would the Doctor hide behind a blurry memory, if she had regrets? 

Maybe, decides Yaz. Maybe it was the Doctor's own way of letting her down gently. 

She frowns, memories of the evening they just spent together flashing through her mind. Between dancing, their familiar banter, and the very brief moment they shared before Yaz panicked, the younger woman's confusion grows. 

If the Doctor regretted taking their relationship further once, why would she allow it to happen again tonight, when they were both sober?

Yaz rubs her empty hand against her forehead, sparing a longing thought for her mum in the muddled chaos of her own contradicting ideas. 

Closing her eyes, she can almost feel the woman's arms around her, the scent of their family home swirling in her head. Najia might not be able to explain the Doctor's odd actions, but her usual mix of impatient questions and reassuring touch would settle the uneasy fluttering deep in Yaz's stomach. 

With a sigh, Yaz gulps as her eyes travel through the room surrounding her. The scarcely furnished space, generic decoration hung around the walls and heavy curtains make for a stark contrast to her colorful childhood bedroom, darkening the sad, vivid loneliness tinting her mind. 

She shifts, sitting up to fight the somber mood that threatens to take over her head, when the Doctor suddenly mumbles in her sleep. Freezing, Yaz watches her friend turn on her side, cuddling their joined hands under her chin. 

The dark haired woman tilts her head, taking in the Doctor's features smoothed by sleep. 

_That's just you, Yaz._

The Time Lord's voice echoes in her mind, the soft, tentative tone soothing the storm of conflicting emotions battling through Yaz's head. 

She focuses on the rhythm of her own breathing, holding on to the tenuous thread of hope.

When she grows tired of sitting still, the first rays of sunlight are peeking through the heavy curtains. 

Yaz slips off the bed, loosening the grip the Doctor has on her fingers in careful motions. Once she's free, she muffles a yawn into her shoulder and wanders to the front room, padding to the kitchen corner to fill the kettle. 

Flickering the stove on, she shuffles on her feet as she prepares two cups of tea. When the water boils, she pours it into mugs, adds milk and a dash of honey to her own, and hesitates when she considers the Doctor's. 

Yaz blinks, brows furrowed as the slow realization that she has no idea how the woman likes her tea settles uncomfortably in her heart. How can she not know? The Doctor has been making her tea for months, did she never... Do the same?

A poignant burst of guilt tips over the conflicting emotions that piled up on Yaz's shoulders during the night, the heavy, exhausting burden leaving her with trembling hands and tears trickling down her cheeks. 

Pressing a palm against her mouth, Yaz muffles a shaky whimper and backs into the wall, sliding to the ground with her knees raised protectively against her chest.

***************

The Doctor groans when a noise tugs at the edge of her conscious thoughts, dragging her away from peaceful slumber. She flops to her back, rubbing her hands down her face as she struggles to clear the blurry leftover of sleep in her head. 

She yawns, freezes when the sound that woke her repeats, and realizes the other side of the bed is empty. 

"Yaz?" The Doctor whispers, propped up on her elbows. Throwing the cover off her body, she slips into a plushy dressing gown, flattens messy bed hair and peeks her head in the front room. 

Hazel eyes grow wide when the Doctor notices the huddled form in a corner besides the stove, approaching Yaz in cautiously silent steps, until she's close enough to crouch in front of her. 

"Hey."

Shaking shoulders freeze, Yaz's head snapping up at the word. She never heard the Doctor enter the room, and she fights a wave of embarrassment at being caught with quiet sobs stuck in her throat. 

"Can you tell me what's wrong?" 

There's a gentle edge to the Doctor's question that sends the younger woman's mind reeling, fresh tears stinging her eyes. She brushes them away forcefully, as a calming palm settles against her raised knee. 

"I'm fine." 

The Doctor tilts her head, arching a dubious eyebrow. 

Yaz blows out a long, trembling breath and sighs. "I wanted to make tea, fo..." Her voice falters. "For us. But I don't know how you like your tea." 

"Erm..." The Time Lord frowns, unsure. "Is that why you're cr..."

"No." Yaz interrupts with a hint of a reluctant smile, as she witnesses earnest confusion flash on her friend's features.

"I'm crying because you've been making me tea every morning for months. Even when I kept snapping at you - and I know I was awful - but..." She pauses for a gulp of air, steadying her voice. "I love it, it makes me feel at home." 

"I wanted to do something nice for you, because I couldn't sleep, and you've been... Amazing." Yaz glances into gentle emerald irises that regards her patiently. "Really." She sniffles. "And because we're friends now." 

"Or more than friends, I don't know what we are and I'm so scared to ask. I'm scared of what would happen, if we didn't... Work as more than friends." Yaz explains, clumsy. 

"I would never expect anything from you, you know th..." 

"I don't!" Yaz snaps, loudly. She breathes in, squeezing the hand resting on her knee in quiet apology. "I think, - or I hope - I know you. I hope you would agree to go back to being friends, because I don't want to lose you."

"You won't." The Doctor whispers, earning a silent nod. 

"But I thought I knew my parents, until my dad came home from work one day, and I learnt they were lying to me." Yaz trudges forwards, the dam holding months worth of pent-up frustration bursting. 

"For all my life, Doctor. They told us we had a family exemption from the law. That they were allowed to keep two daughters, because my dad worked for the Capitol." She recalls, a bout of homesickness drawing a new round of tears that cling to her eyelids. "It was a lie. And now I'm here, and they're back in Arcadia, and I _miss_ them."

"I wish they were here, but I'm so angry too." Yaz concludes, her voice breaking on the last word as her forehead drops against her knees. "Why didn't they trust us? How am I supposed to trust anyone now?" 

Silent seconds tick by, until fingers comb shyly through messy brown hair, growing more confident when Yaz lets out a tired sigh. 

"Maybe..." The Doctor trails off, considering her next sentence. "Maybe they were trying to protect you." 

"By lying?" Yaz's voice is muffled, as she enjoys the soothing touch against her scalp, head tipped down. 

"By not worrying you. You were happy, right? Before you were forced to marry m..." She bites back the last word, freezing when a brown, blood-shot gaze snaps to hers. 

"I was, yes. You know it's not your fault that I had to come here, don't you? You didn't make that law." Yaz states, stern. "And it's a lot better than military training." 

The Doctor hesitates. "I know, b..."

Yaz cuts off the objection. "Good. I don't blame you. Stop blaming yourself." 

Pursing her lips, the Time Lord nods, fighting a smile. "Yes, boss."

"Shut up." Yaz snickers, her breathing slowly settling in a more regular pattern. 

The Doctor stays quiet, taking in her friend's swollen eyes, drawn out features, and shadowed pupils. "Did you sleep at all?" 

"What?" She blinks, caught off-guard. 

"Last night. You look exhausted." The Doctor stands, reaching a hand down. "Come on." She repeats, fingers wriggling when Yaz doesn’t move, gaze darting between the offered limb and patient green eyes. 

The younger woman swallows audibly, steeling herself as she grabs the Doctor's palm and allows herself to be guided back into her bedroom. 

"Bed." 

Too tired to object, Yaz slides between the sheets, settling on her back while the Time Lord disappears into the kitchen. She returns a few seconds later, dropping a mug of tea on each bedside table, before joining her friend and leaning back against the headboard, legs crossed at the ankle. 

"Loads of sugar and a dash of milk. I switch sugar for honey, if I don't feel well." 

Yaz’s eyebrows knit together, confused by the Doctor's words. 

"My tea." The blond explains, sipping on the dark liquid in her cup. "Which is one problem solved." She reaches out, resuming her careful combing through chestnut curls. "One thing at a time, yeah?" 

Yaz nods, quietly. 

"Next thing is for you to get some sleep, then we can talk." The Doctor states, gauging her friend's state of mind. "Yaz?" 

"Hm?" 

"If I don't get to feel guilty about bringing you here, you don't get to feel guilty about how you acted in the first couple of weeks." 

Yaz sniffles, frown deepening. "It's not the same. I kept trying to hurt you on purpose." 

"I know. But I don't blame you, so you can't blame yourself. That's the rule." 

"You hate rules." She points out, fighting a grin. 

"Eh. I'll allow that one." The Doctor mirrors the expression. "Your whole life changed, in one day. It must have been so hard." 

"Yeah." Yaz confirms, with a wet chuckle. Turning on her side, she buries her face against the Doctor's thigh, wrapping her arms around her waist. "Sorry." 

"It's all right." Laying her mug on the bedside table, the Time Lord shakes off Yaz's grip until she shifts down and rests her head on a pillow, holding one arm to the side. "Come here." 

Yaz shuffles closer, allowing the gentle pull that guides her to the Doctor's shoulder. She rests her head in the nook between her collarbones and neck, nuzzling into the soft material of her shirt before throwing a thigh over her legs. 

Too tired to realize the intimacy of their new position, Yaz narrows her attention to the blunt nails scratching against the fine hair at the back of her neck. "What about audiences?" She weakly protests, dipping her head to offer her shoulder blades to the soothing touch. 

"Cancelled."

"You can't just cancel audiences." She yawns. 

"Sure I can." The Doctor lowers her voice, bending to brush her lips against Yaz's forehead. "I know the woman in charge." 

"M’too." Yaz slurs. "'s nice."

"Eh. She's all right." The Doctor chuckles with a satisfied smile when her friend sinks into her side, body growing limp in slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick precision: I know I said I welcome any kind of feedbacks, but I was thinking of constructive criticism (I'm always trying to improve my writing!). A detailed explanation about why someone won't be continuing to read/why they don’t like the premise of the story just makes me overthink every decision I've made (and I’m having a rough time finding inspiration recently). 
> 
> That said, I'm really, really grateful for all the kudos/kind comments, the support is definitely helping :-D


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to start with a big thank you to everyone for the support! I’m amazed every time I post, but all the comments on the last chapter really made my week :-). 
> 
> Next update should be up either this weekend, or next Monday!

Yaz's eyelids flutter opened much later, once the sunlight peeking through the curtains turned orange. 

She yawns, lips twitching in a sleepy smile when she notices the Doctor still at her side, a notebook resting against her propped up leg, as she furiously scribbles characters Yaz can't understand. 

"What's that?" She croaks, voice rough from lack of use. 

The Doctor startles, eyes snapping to her friend. "You're awake!" 

Yaz hums, lazily shuffling to rest her head against the blond's nearby shoulder. The kiss distractedly pressed against her hairline makes her smile. "What are you doing?" 

"It's for work." The Doctor explains, with a one-shouldered shrug. "Nothing important." 

Yaz blinks, thankful for the few hours of rest that cleared up her foggy mind, as her own sharpened concentration allows her to catch the Doctor's dismissive tone. She bites her lip, following a persistent hunch she never dared to explore until now. 

"Which one?"

"What?" 

"Which of your job?" Yaz clarifies, scowling her features in a neutral expression when the Doctor abruptly glances to the side. She holds an intrigued hazel gaze innocently. 

"Don't know what you mean." The Doctor responds, fighting an amused smile. 

"I mean..." Yaz trails off, propping up on her elbows. "That I know where you spend your afternoons, when you're not busy with the High Council." 

"Do you?" 

Yaz nods, running her hand through her messy hair. "Involves some tools and a TARDIS' repair shop, doesn't it?" She pauses, considering the Doctor's sheepish grin. "You never talk about it." 

"Well, I didn't want you to..." The playful spark in the Doctor's eyes fades, her smile turning wistful. "You know I really tried, right? To get us away, I mean." She gulps. "The night we met." 

Yaz nods again, struggling to follow her friend's train of thoughts. 

"I thought maybe you'd believe that I sabotaged our escape on purpose, if you knew I'm a mechanic." Scrunching her nose, the Doctor sighs. "Should have been able to deactivate the recall circuit. It's easy." 

"Easy?" Yaz repeats, raising a dubious eyebrow. "It’s got to be a lot harder when you have to drive the TARDIS at the same time."

"I'm very clever, Yaz." 

The younger woman snickers, before falling serious. "I don't think I ever really doubted you." She hesitates, shaking her head. "I was angry for a long time, and you were the easiest target because you didn’t tell me who you were. But I know you did everything you could to help." 

"Really?" The Time Lord frowns, surprised. "How?" 

"I had a hunch." Yaz shrugs with a pat below her collarbone. "Here." 

"Aw." The Doctor scrunches her nose, grinning. "That's really sappy." 

"Shut up." She chuckles, shuffling on her side to get a better look at the Doctor's notes. "What does it say?" Narrowing her eyes, Yaz tilts her head to study the rounded Gallifreyan characters.

"You know how to read Gallifreyan, yeah?" 

Yaz hums, reaching to trace her fingers along pencil-traced lines. "From the bottom, right? And you make your way to the center?" She squints at the scrawled dots. "Something about stairs?" 

"Yes!" The Doctor grins. "Gold star for you. Remember the TARDIS we took, when we tried to run away?"

"Hm." 

"I'm improving the control room." 

Yaz frowns, reminded of her visit to the Doctor's workplace. "Shouldn't you start by repairing all the systems you broke?" 

"The systems I br..." The Doctor repeats, confused. "How do you know so much?" 

"Erm...." Yaz clears her throat, caught off-guard. "You know Missy took me a tour of the Citadel?" 

A quick nod later, she continues. "We stopped by your workpl..."

"Missy knows?" Hazel eyes grow wide in concern. "Are you sure?" 

"Well, she took me to the repair shop." Yaz explains, shrugging. "I saw you having lunch with your friends, and you told them you would repair the TARDIS." She frowns in the lingering silence, touching the Doctor's elbow. "Is something wrong?" 

"I didn't think Missy...." She trails off, sighing. "Never mind. Don't know why I'm surprised, of course she knows." 

"She said you're the best mechanic in Gallifrey's history, if it makes you feel better." 

"That's one thing we agree on." The Time Lord's uncomfortable wince turns into a smirk. "I'm very good." 

"And very modest." Yaz deadpans, rolling her eyes. "She said she'd kill me if I told you though." 

"Don't worry, your secret is safe with me." The Doctor teases, taking in Yaz's clear gaze and smoothed features. The nap clearly improved the woman's state of mind. "Do you want to see it? The TARDIS?" 

"Sure." Intrigued by the sudden proposition, Yaz approves. She slips from under the blankets, pausing to observe the Doctor who's busy adding details to her notes. "Do you think you could teach me more?" 

The confused frown thrown her way prompts the younger woman to clarify. "Of your language. There's so many Gallifreyan books in the library, and I can't unders..."

"It's really complicated." 

Yaz's eyebrow hitch, unhappy. "Is that a problem? You're not the only clever one, you kn..."

"No!" The Doctor protests, eyes growing wide. "Not what I meant. Of course you'd get it, you're brilliant. But..." She shrugs. "It might take a while." 

"Well, I'm not going anywhere. Are you?" 

"You don't even like my people." The Time Lord hesitates, hinting at her real concern. "Are you sure you want to bother learning about our cult...""

"Yes." It's Yaz's turn to interrupt, confused by the Doctor's reluctant objections. "I thought you didn't like your people either." 

"Oh, I don't." She confirms. "It's just... It's the people I don't like. But Time Lord history, science, language..." Trailing off, the Doctor blows out a shaky breath. "Love all that. It's fascinating."

"Yes." Yaz agrees gently, tilting her head. "I'm not asking to learn your language to complain about Time Lords, you know. I'm interested too. I was reading a history book the other day, and half of it was in Gallifreyan." 

The Doctor's genuine surprise draws a long sigh from Yaz, as she lingers in the doorway. "Your people don't have the best reputation, but I'm sorry I never gave them a chance to change my m..."

"We don’t deserve one." The blond cuts off the apology, firmly. "Not after what we did to you. But we weren't always awful, there was a time when Time Lords were decent people, experimenting with a technology they didn't understand. It's those memories I want to protect."

"Me too." Yaz smiles patiently. 

"All right. I'll teach you." The Doctor grins. "It's going to be fun." 

"Can't wait." Yaz throws over her shoulder, heading for her bedroom. "I want to see the TARDIS first though." 

"Yes, boss." The Doctor raises her voice, happy with the fading chuckle that answers her quip. 

***************

Freshly showered and clad in a clean jumper, warm leggings and a pair of new boots, Yaz wanders through the Capitol’s streets, in step with the Doctor. The other woman is wearing her trademark coat, blond hair meticulously tucked under the hood. 

"I don't understand why you have to wear this." Yaz chuckles when the material falls over hazel eyes. "You can't even see." 

"Sure, I can." The Doctor argues, raising her head. "And it's because I'd like to get to the repair shop before sunset."

"Which is what, five hours away?" 

The Time Lord slows her strides, observing Yaz with her fists on her hips. "Do you know what happens, when I go out and someone recognizes me?" 

Blinking, Yaz offers a silent shrug. 

The Doctor's shoulders heave with a long sigh, shaking off the grey hood covering her head. "You'll see. Come on, stay close." 

With a frown at the last instruction, Yaz scans the bustling streets, curious. The steady line of people traveling through the city keeps flowing around them, until a short, white haired woman notices their presence. 

Her steps quicken when she reaches the Doctor and starts rambling about her grandchildren's new school, - that’s allegedly too crowded for her liking - the blond pursing her lips as she tries to follow the rapid influx of information. 

"I understand, but I really can't help you right now." She interrupts eventually, intent on reaching their destination as quickly as possible. 

Yaz approves, cutting off the woman's upcoming objection. "Why don't you come to audiences tomorrow, madam? I'm sure we can sort out your problem."

The stranger turns a piercing brown gaze towards her, hesitating. "Really?" 

"We'll do our best." The Doctor confirms, earning a swift nod of acknowledgment as they're left behind by the perceptively relieved elder. 

Yaz watches her leave with the hint of a smile. "That wasn't so ba..." 

The last word sticks in her throat when she almost runs into a taller shadow. She glances up, frowning at the tall, bearded man towering over her head. 

The newcomer addresses the Doctor in a language that sounds completely foreign to Yaz's ears. The Doctor looks unfazed, her head tilted to the side in concentration as she nods distractedly. 

The unintelligible conversation leaves the younger woman with enough time to scan her surroundings, her eyes growing wide at the crowd slowly gathering around them. Yaz shuffles closer to the Doctor, the Time Lord's fingers lacing with her own as she gently tugs her friend in front of her. 

The Doctor shits her grip, palm flattening between Yaz's shoulders to guide her through a side street. Knowing the group of strangers will only scatter away once they get to the repair shop, the Time Lord keeps walking purposefully. 

The familiar red door is a welcomed sight, leaving the Doctor to push it opened, usher Yaz forwards and slam it shut behind them. Both women rest their back against the wooden surface, gasping. 

Yaz blinks in the quiet atmosphere, glad for the sudden silence. "Is it always like that?" She wonders, with a grimace. 

"Every time." The Doctor glances to the side, the hint of a smirk clinging to her lips. "Can I wear the hood up next time?" 

"You should be wearing a disguise." Yaz mutters, waving when she notices a woman observing them from behind the counter. "Hello."

The shop employee looks her up and down, gaze drifting to the Doctor in recognition. "About time you bring your wife to meet us." 

Rolling her eyes, the blond heads towards the stairs leading to the basement. "We're not here to meet you, we're here to see the TARDIS."

"I'm starting to think you like that ship more than you like us." 

"Oh, I do." The Time Lord teases, slipping behind the counter. "No need to wonder anymore." 

Yaz pauses, caught off-guard by the easy-going banter. Pushing away from the door, she sticks out her hand. "I'm Yaz."

"Ada." She smiles, turning grey eyes towards the younger woman. "I've heard a lot about you, it's nice to finally meet." 

"Have you?" 

"Oh, yeah. You're all she talks about, whenever we get a chance to chat."

"I wish I could say the same." Yaz responds, with a slow-spreading smirk. "I guess we'll just have to trade stories." 

Ada chuckles, grinning. "I'd love tha..."

"Oi. Don't gang up on me, it's rude." The Doctor's head peeks back into the front room, throwing a pointed look to both women before her attention settles on Yaz. "Are you coming or not?" 

Raising her hands in surrender, Yaz amiably follows down the stairs, through the basement and stops in front of the police box. The Doctor pauses, palm pressed against blue wood. 

"Ready?" She grins, leaving the dark haired woman hopeless to contain her own smile. 

"This better be good. I have expectations n..." The end of her sentence dies in her throat, a breathless gasp falling from Yaz's parted lips as she pads deeper into the room. 

"It's bigger than last time." She blinks and rounds the console, her fingers tracing the metallic ridges of levers. 

"Not much." The Doctor argues, glancing up. "Needed some more storage room, I moved the walls a bit. And the ceiling." 

Sticking her head from the other side of the central column, Yaz repeats, dumbfounded. "You moved the walls?" 

"Yep." 

"And you put in stairs."

"Yeah, not sure about the design though. It's boring, isn't it?" The Doctor sighs, examining the straight, metallic stairways leading to the ship’s corridors. 

Yaz scrambles for words, eyes wide. "There was nothing there. You just... Made another level appear, and you're worried about the stairs being boring?"

"Well... Yes?" The Time Lord scrunches her nose. "It's my TARDIS, Yaz. Boring stairs won't do." 

"You're ridiculous." The younger woman relents, fond affection taming the accusation. "Anything else you want to show off?" 

"Yes!" The Doctor's gaze brightens at the sudden reminder, as the woman jumps from her spot on the third step. She strides to the console, circling the platform until she's standing near the takeoff lever. "Watch." 

Yaz's jaw falls open when the Time Lord's foot finds a pedal on the floor and presses against it. The action triggers a faint wheeze, as an object slides down a metallic rail, caught by deft fingers and thrown into the Doctor's mouth. 

"What was th..."

"A biscuit!" The Doctor exclaims through crumbs. "Custard cream, my favorite." 

"You are _ridiculous_." Yaz states again, inching closer to give a squeeze to the blond's upper arm. Her touch lingers, traveling up to the other woman's shoulder until she finds herself dragged forwards and clutched in a hearty hug. 

"Do you like it? I really wanted you to like it." 

Yaz swallows audibly, touched. Her arms squeeze around the Doctor's waist, as she nods against her collarbone. "You did great. I love it."

She really does, Yaz realizes. Something about the warm lighting, soft hum echoing through the room, and the comforting up-and-down motion of the ship's central column lulls her into an inexplicable sense of security. 

Or maybe it's the hands rubbing soothing patterns against the thick material of her jumper that make her feel at home, Yaz ponders. The sensation is a welcomed relief after the chaos of the last twenty-four hours, leaving her melting against the Doctor as the woman's fingertips drift along her spine. 

"Do you think we could..." Yaz hesitates, gathering her thoughts and shifting away to make eye-contact. "Stay here for a bit?" 

Hazel eyes widen, taking in the nervous twitching of Yaz's boots against the floor. "Of course." The Doctor scratches the back of her neck. "There's maintenance to do, do you mind if I j..."

"Have fun." Yaz interrupts with a snicker, stepping away to sit on the floor, back against the console and legs crossed. "I'll watch." 

The Doctor grins, hands on her hips as she considers the panels. "Prepare to be impressed." She says, before dashing out of the room in search of her equipment.

***************

"Doctor?" Yaz speaks up, breaking the peaceful silence blanketing the control room. 

The Time Lord is laying on her back, the upper half of her body stuck under the console. She periodically waves her hand around, feeling around the floor until Yaz loses patience and fetches the tool she's looking for from the black box that's now perched on her knees. 

The quiet atmosphere allows the younger woman to reflect on the last day, the memory of her breakdown leaving a bitter aftertaste in her mouth, as the noise of her own sobs echoes awkwardly in her mind. 

Determined to put the uncomfortable feeling of vulnerability to good use, Yaz nods to herself. 

"Hm?" The Doctor hums questioningly, tongue peeking from her teeth as she hammers the bend of a copper pipe. 

"Watch your head." 

"What?" The Time Lord frowns from under the console. "I'm fine, there's loads of space." She looks around, scowling at the metallic object hanging low over her googles. "Well, there's enough space for my hea..."

"Why did you never tell me you can't get drunk?" 

A few seconds of silence, a muffled thud, and a low curse later, the Doctor rolls off from under the TARDIS, sitting up to face Yaz as she rubs her forehead. 

"What?" 

Yaz frowns, batting the Doctor's hands away. "I told you to watch your head. Be careful." 

The reddened skin looks intact, to Yaz relief as she gently traces the growing bruise. "You need one of those welding masks." 

"Already have one." The Doctor shakes off the concern, focused on the initial question. "What did you ask?" 

Yaz gnaws at her bottom lip, holding an anxious hazel stare. "Ryan says Time Lords can only get drunk on ginger. We..."

Eyes drifting to the steadying fingers that slot with her own on the ground, Yaz blinks. "There was no ginger in the wine we drank, the night we..." She gulps. "Kissed." 

"You remember." The Doctor breathes, running a hand through her hair nervously. She fumbles with her glasses until they slide down from the top of her head, falling loosely around her neck. "I thought..." Her voice trails off in a relieved gasp, drawing Yaz's intrigued eyes up. 

"What?" 

"I didn't tell you because..." The Doctor inhales shakily, forcing herself to hold eye contact. "There was no good outcome. Either you did remember, but you changed your mind and you were trying to break it to me gently... Or you forgot, and I thought..." She pauses. "I thought maybe I took advantage of you." 

"That's why..." Yaz's breath hitches, frown deepening in slow realization. "Why it was so awkward between us afterwards. I'm sorry, I wa..."

"It's all right." The Doctor clumsily waves away the apology. "You don't have t..."

"Yes, I do." Yaz interrupts, bringing their joined palms up to press a kiss against the back of the Doctor's fingers. "I was scared, that's why I said I forgot what happened. But I didn't mean to hurt you, I'm sorry." 

The Doctor tilts her head, eyebrows knitted together. "Were you scared of... Me?" 

"No. Never." Yaz shakes her head, smiling wistfully. "I told you, I'm scared of losing you if something changes between us."

"But you won't, no matter what happens." The Doctor's free hand cups Yaz's cheek, returning the smile. "I swear."

Pondering the words, Yaz purses her lips. "That's a heavy promise." 

"I know, but I mean it." She confirms, sighing. "You only have to trust me."

Yaz shuffles closer to lean their foreheads together, careful of the tender, bruised skin over the Doctor's eyebrow. 

"It's hard."

"I know." The Time Lord's whisper warms the tip of Yaz's nose. "I hope y..." 

A sudden gurgle and a splash of black liquid hitting the floor inches away from the Doctor's knee cuts into the conversation, as both women jump apart. 

"Wh..." The Doctor springs to her feet, sticking her head back into the console. "I didn't even touch that, why is your oil tank leaking?" 

"Sorry, Yaz." Glancing up with a grin, she points to the TARDIS' console. "Don't know what's wrong with her, give me a minute to fix it." She hesitates, nose scrunched. "I say a minute. Might be a little more than that." 

Yaz's breath hitches at the sight. Between the googles hanging from her neck, the traces of oil clinging to her cheeks and her tousled blond hair, the woman offers the same smile she always gives Yaz, the one that was at the core of the previous night's argument. 

Oblivious, the Doctor winks and dives back into the mess of wires and dark liquid staining the console. 

With a faint click at the back of her head, Yaz gasps as she pieces together a chaotic mix of memories and conflicting emotions, coming to a conclusion that should have been obvious. It's the happiness sparkling in the Time Lord's pupils that makes that grin so special. 

The tip of her tongue nervously running against her lips, Yaz steels herself, gently tapping the Doctor's foot. A pair of hazel eyes glances up wordlessly, intrigued.

"Do you want to go on a date?" Yaz rushes out, swallowing heavily. "A real one, where we both admit our friendship is a bit... More." 

The Doctor gasps and sinks onto one knee, thoughts of a leaking oil tank flying from her head. Eyes shining, one of her palm hovers near Yaz's face, before she turns her hand and runs the back of her fingers against her cheek. "Really?" 

"Yeah." Yaz shrugs, hesitant. "Nothing changed, I don't know if I'm able to trust you - or anyone, really - but you make me happy." She pauses, smiling to herself. "And I think I do the same for you. We can sort out the rest later." 

The Doctor’s grin spreads, before she closes the gap between them. Her lips miss Yaz’s, brushing the dip at the corner of her mouth when the younger woman tilts her head. 

“Date first, kissing later.”

“But we’ve kissed already.” The Doctor argues, scrunching her nose. 

“I know.”

“Twice.”

“Yes.” Yaz admits, fighting a smile. 

“And it was really good.”

Yaz sighs when the Doctor punctuates her last sentence with a pout, bottom lip stuck out. 

“Ah, fine.” She surges forwards, fingers tangling in short blond hair as they meet in a tentative kiss. 

The sensation sends a familiar echo through Yaz's head, memories of a night spent on a purple sofa stirring deep in her guts. She props herself up, raising to her knees as a gentle touch maps her jawline. 

The Doctor's hands travel down to adjust to their new position, reaching the small of Yaz's back with an appreciative hum at woman's experimental, soft tug on blond hair. Yaz's fingers lace through the fine strands at the back of her neck.

She’s barely settled on her knees when a splash of oil flies through the air, landing on the Doctor's chin with another gurgle. The Time Lord heaves a long sigh, tilting her head back to glare at the ship's console before her gaze softens and returns to Yaz. 

"Should probably fix that." She states, wiping off the black liquid with the back of her hand. 

Yaz's stormy pupils flit one last time between the Doctor's parted lips and her eyes, breathless. "Probably." She clears her throat. "An oil leak in your TARDIS won't do." 

The Time Lord springs to her feet, peeling herself away from Yaz's side regretfully. She grins down to the console and nods to herself as her fingers wrap around the emptying tank. 

The movement leaves the dark haired woman to fall back against the metallic panels, content to soak up the peaceful chaos surrounding the ship, a warm tingle lingering on her lips.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone reading! I'll try to post another update this week, if I can manage with my job.

"What if I'm awful?" Yaz's anxious voice wonders, drawing the Doctor's head up from her precise tea-making process. 

"What?" 

The dark haired woman emerges from her bedroom, clad in black trousers, a white, sleeveless shirt and a heavy jacket gripped in her hand.

"What if I'm awful?" She repeats, fighting a smile at the appreciative gaze that lingers on her arms. 

"Guess they'll make fun of you." The Doctor responds, distracted. 

"Doctor!" 

"Right, not a good answer." The Time Lord blinks, clearing her throat. "What's the question again?" 

The tension coiled in her chest fades, as Yaz pads into the kitchen corner, one hand reaching for the lapels of the Doctor's coat. Index hooked under her chin, she raises to her tiptoes to press their lips together. 

Kisses are a regular occurrence between them now, leaving Yaz in a permanent state of inner conflict. 

Part of her struggles to understand what it means for their murky relationship status, concerned by how fast they're moving since their heart-to-hearts on the TARDIS, a couple of days ago.

The other is wondering how they spent so long _not kissing_ , the same part that purrs with delight every time the Doctor scratches gently against the small of her back, teeth tugging against her bottom lip. 

So, Yaz doesn't think about it. 

"I said..." She clears her throat once they separate, bumping their noses together. "What if I'm awful?" 

"Oh." The Doctor's irises brighten in understanding, a smile twitching at the corner of her mouth. "You won't be, you're great. Best teacher ever." 

Yaz chuckles and slips her arms around the blond's back, tucking her head against her neck. She closes her eyes and indulges in the warm comfort she always draws from their hugs, before reaching for the hot drink awaiting her on the counter. 

With a quiet sip, Yaz remembers the unexpected chaos of the last few days, - a fleet of war ships from Mangolor landed right outside the Capitol, forcing the Doctor and most members of the High Council in a seventy-two hour marathon of peace negotiations - thankful for a lazy morning before she has to leave for work. 

Yaz could have helped resolve the crisis, she knows. But putting together plots to outsmart people sitting on the other side of a negotiating table is everything she hates about politics. She can tolerate audiences - with real people in need of help - but phony interactions always leave her exasperated.

Instead, Yaz used the unexpected time alone to review the state of her life. After two conversations with Ryan and a chance meeting with Larna, she gathered her courage and knocked on the door of a nearby primary school recommended by Rassilon's widow. 

The principal - a tall, dark skinned woman named Grace - welcomed her with a warm hug and a friendly cup of tea, keen to hear what she had to say. Yaz's nervous rambling taped off after a shaky start, their talk morphing into a surprisingly pleasant exchange of ideas about her plan to teach self-defense to young Gallifreyans.

She left the school with a persistent grin clinging to her lips and a new job waiting for her, excited. Running back to the library, Yaz spent the afternoon breaking the news to her family in a long winded letter, before sharing a celebratory meal with Ryan and Graham...

***************

_Bag of leftover roast in her hand - Graham insisted - and sleepy contentment turning her steps clumsy, Yaz drags herself back to her quarters in the early hours of the morning. She spares a longing thought for her best friend, briefly wondering if interrupting the Doctor's negotiations for a quick chat is an option._

_The mental picture makes her chuckle - "Sorry, I know you're all itching for a war, but I need to tell my wife about my new job" - until she realizes she never discussed the matter with the Doctor, except for a brief discussion, the evening they spent with Larna._

_With a little frown, Yaz wonders how she'll react to her official return to teaching. The prospect seemed to make the Time Lord happy, but... That's the sort of things people living together discuss beforehand, isn't it?_

_Yaz unlocks the heavy black door as she struggles to find an answer to her own question, almost bumping into the Doctor who's frozen in the entrance, leaning heavily against the nearby wall._

_"Doctor!"_

_The exclamation draws a tired hazel gaze over the blond's shoulder, the older woman smiling in recognition. "That's me. Hello."_

_"Hi." Yaz ignores the warm flutter in her stomach, shaking her head. "I have a new job." She rushes out, before her brain catches up with her mouth. "Teaching. I start tomorrow, it's at the new school near the bakery on Nam..."_

_The Doctor blinks, the idea cutting through the foggy exhaustion blurring her mind. "You have a job." She interrupts, grinning._

_Before Yaz understands what's happening, she finds herself swept in a crushing hug, her arms instinctively lacing behind the Doctor's shoulders. She snickers, her previous concern fading as she returns the embrace._

_"Wait, you're happy, right?" The Doctor pauses, suddenly noticing the dark haired woman's nervous rambling. "You didn't sound happy."_

_"It's great. I just..." Yaz frowns, taking a step back. "Was I supposed to talk to you first?"_

_"What for?" The Doctor's eyebrows shoot up. "You know you can do whatever you wa..."_

_"Yes." Yaz waves away the confused shadow darkening emerald pupils. "Of course. But I thought... Shouldn't we discuss that sort of things? We're... Well, married. Or dating. Together." She huffs, fumbling with the end of her sentence._

_"Oh." Frown deepening, the Doctor tilts her head. "Don't know. Should we?"_

_"I don't know." Yaz returns, scratching her neck. She holds the Doctor's confused stare, until their shared, flustered expressions draws a burst of laughter from her chest. "I don't think we're very good at being married, Doc."_

_"Eh." The blond chuckles, shrugging. "We're having fun, I think it's good enough."_

_"Yeah." Yaz confirms, with a slow-spreading, dreamy smile. "It is." She pauses, taking in the Doctor's unfocused gaze, the shadows under her eyes, and the way she slumps back against the wall. "Are you okay? You look shattered."_

_With a noisy breath through her nose, the Doctor rolls her eyes. "It took three days, just to get the Mangolorans to admit what they wanted."_

_"What was it? They're gone now, right?"_

_"Sea grass. They showed up with an entire war fleet to get sea grass."_

_Yaz frowns at the mention of the plant, known for causing trouble for most Gallifreyans plantations. "What did they want weed for?"_

_"I think they eat it. I didn't ask though, just wanted them gone by this point." The Doctor sighs. "Told them they could have as much as they wanted, as long as they warned us before showing up, and left their weapons home." She shrugs. "They looked happy enough."_

_"That took three days?" Yaz's voice lilts on the last word, stunned. "What for?"_

_"They kept threatening us, until Missy lost patience and almost shrunk their leader, which made them angrier. Had to throw her out of the room. Then it was me and five screaming Mangolorans around a table. It took an entire day, just to calm them down." The Doctor explains, while Yaz fights the smile twitching at the corner of her lips._

_"It's not funny." She argues, nose scrunched._

_Yaz pads closer, kissing the tip of the Doctor's nose in playful consolation. "It's a little funny."_

_The gesture smooths the blond's features, as she muffles a yawn into her shoulder._

_Yaz catches the motion, features softened in concern. "All right, bedtime for Time Lords."_

_"I'm not tired." The Doctor argues, biting her lip to keep a yawn away. "And I missed you. Haven't seen you for_ three _days, Yaz."_

_Yaz guides the other woman to the door of her bedroom gently. "You can see me tomorrow." She shifts, lips seeking the Doctor's cheek as the blond twists her head, turning Yaz's intended casual peck into a slow kiss that sends her heart racing._

_"Sneaky." Yaz comments, leaning their foreheads together._

_"Thanks." The Doctor fires back with a self-satisfied grin. The expression doesn't last long, lost in another yawn as exhaustion catches up with her._

_"Go to bed." Yaz laughs, with a playful push. "You're about to fall asleep right there."_

_Stepping back with a mock salute, the Doctor throws a wink over her shoulder as she slips into her bedroom._

__

***************

"Really, Yaz. You're going to be brilliant." The Doctor breaks the peaceful reminiscing, knowing Yaz wouldn't appreciate being late for her first day. "And late, if you don't get a shift on." 

"Thank you." She sighs, regretfully stepping away from the Doctor.

The blond hums, pecking her lips before fumbling for the cover of a jar. She grabs a custard cream in one hand, shoving another in her mouth. "Yaz?"

The dark haired woman glances back, on her way to the door. 

"Breakfast. Catch!" 

"It's a biscuit." Yaz points out, snatching the food mid-air. "That's not breakfast." 

"Fine." The Doctor shrugs through another mouthful. "Tea was breakfast, this is desert." 

Giving in to the rumble in her stomach, Yaz takes a bite. "You're weird." She says, words softened by fond affection. 

"You like it." 

Yaz clears her throat, ignoring the Doctor's smirk. "Maybe." She shrugs her jacket on her shoulders, turning again when a question freezes her movement. 

"You're free for lunch, right?" 

One boot in her hands, crumbs clinging to the corner of her mouth, Yaz gulps the last of her biscuit and nods. 

"Think you can meet me in the audience room? I hired a new steward, and I need someone to give them a tour."

Yaz's eyebrows hitch, eyes growing wide. "When did you find someone?" 

"Last week." The Doctor explains, shrugging. "Do you mind?" 

Anticipating the mental fatigue that usually comes with her first day spent getting to know dozens of new children, Yaz winces. "Can't you do it?" 

The Doctor hesitates, surprised. "Sure. I'd like you to meet them, though. You might have to work together." 

With a reluctant nod, the younger woman agrees, slipping out of the room. "All right. I'll stop by the audience room after lunch. Laters." 

The door is barely shut behind her when Yaz's head peeks back through the threshold. "Don't scare them before I get there." 

The Doctor snickers into her mug of tea, offering a wordless wave as Yaz grins, easing the door closed again.

***************

Yaz sighs, hurrying up the stairs. Her first day of work weighs heavy on her shoulders, a stark reminder that managing a class of rowdy children comes with its own set of challenges. 

A few troublesome faces already etched in her mind, she hopes her teaching reflexes won't take too long to return. The morning left her muscles sore after hours of running through the same, basic self-defense positions. 

Her lunchtime appointment with the Doctor at the back of her mind, Yaz can only wish the new steward will catch on quickly to their new environment. The sooner she’s done with introductions, the sooner she can get back to her room for a quick kip. 

With a last, longing thought for her bed, she wanders into the audience room. The door slams behind Yaz, drawing the attention of the lone woman standing there, as she turns to face her. 

The breathless gasp falling from her lips freezes Yaz, heart pounding against her ribs when she gets a good look at the stranger. 

Who's not a stranger at all. 

"Mum?" 

Yaz's stomach drops when she catches sight of familiar eyes glossing over with tears, her steps quickening until she can wrap her arms around the solid warmth of her mother's presence. Najia's single, muffled sob brings tears trickling down Yaz's cheeks, as she tightens her grip on the other woman. 

"I missed you." She whispers, a trembling edge to her voice. 

"I missed you too, love." Najia breathes out, clutching her daughter. "Everyday." 

With a sharp intake of breath, Yaz soaks up the familiar smell of her mum's perfume - a flowery scent that brings up blurry memories of her very early childhood, when her whole world was contained in the four walls of their family house - and rests her head against her shoulder. 

"I know who's the favorite now." 

Yaz blinks, gaze snapping to the other side of the room to see her dad and sister silently approaching. "Wh..." Her voice falters when Hakim grips her bicep, his other arm settling around Najia.

Clearing her throat, Yaz shifts one hand to the side, fingers blindly bunching into the man's shirt. She tugs him closer and basks into the comfort of the group hug, eyes snapping to Sonya, who's glaring threateningly. 

"If you try to hug me, I'm leaving." 

Yaz lets out a noise halfway between a sob and a chuckle, shaking her head as she loosens her parents' hold to take a good look at them. Sonya's quip steadies the vivid emotions swirling in her head. "It's fine." She teases. "I didn't miss you that much."

Her sister's glare softens as she smirks. "Yeah, me neither. Weirdo." 

Hakim sighs, rolling his eyes. "Can't we spend five minutes together without you two insulting each other?" 

"What are you doing here?" Yaz asks, tentatively piecing together the reality of seeing her family again. 

"I thought..." Najia frowns, confused. "I thought it was you. The tryout offer." 

"The tryout off..." Yaz repeats, her voice trailing off as her eyes widen. "Wait, you mean... For a job?" She blinks through a renewed sheen of tears blurring her vision. "You're the new steward. You're here to stay." 

"What did you think? I didn't spend so many days traveling for a quick visit." Sonya cuts into the conversation, earning a spontaneous hug from her sister. She returns it eagerly, holding the contact for a few heartfelt seconds. "All right, that's enough." 

"Yeah." Yaz agrees, pushing Sonya away gently. "You'll start thinking I like you." 

"You love me." She deadpans, with another self-satisfied smile.

Yaz rolls her eyes, while Najia's voice interrupts the banter. "Can you give us a tour, sweetheart? I don't really want a Time Lord to do it." 

The younger woman's initial, enthusiastic nod slows to a stop. "You know you'll be working with them, right?" 

"I know." Najiia confirms. "I'll work with anyone to be close to you again, Yaz."

Nervously wetting her lips, Yaz chooses to ignore the potential tension between her mum and the Time Lords living in the Citadel. She can deal with the situation later. 

The thought reminds her of one particular Time Lord she needs to have a quick chat with, as Yaz glances to the back room hidden behind the wooden platform. 

"I'll show you around, promise. I just need to..." She trails off, retreating clumsily. "Give me a minute." 

Yaz pads to the door, hand hovering over the handle as she keeps her family in her line of sight. She hesitates, taking in the three people staring back at her, until Sonya rolls her eyes. 

"We're not going to disappear, you know." 

"You can go, as long as mum and dad stay." Yaz teases, turning on her heels to slip through the door.

***************

Yaz almost trips her way into the room, finding the Doctor sitting cross legged on the ground, leaning against a wall as she toys with her Sonic screwdriver. 

"You, idiot." She whispers, startling the other woman. 

"Hello!" The Doctor greets cheerily, a satisfied spark flashing through her pupils. "You've met the new steward then." 

The younger woman ignores the banter, falling to her knees at the Doctor's side, one of her hand cupping the back of the blond's neck as she pushes their mouths together. 

"You, kind, thoughtful, idiot." Yaz repeats, each word punctuated by a kiss along the Doctor's jaw. 

"I'm getting very mixed messages h... Ooh, do that again." She gasps, when Yaz nibbles against the soft skin of her throat. The touch grows firmer, electric heat pooling deep in her guts before she remembers where they are. 

"Wait, we can't..." The Doctor's voice falters when the dark haired woman soothes her tongue along her collarbone, earning a low sigh. "Stop." 

"Can't stop." Yaz repeats, grinning against soft skin. "Agreed." 

"Wait, don't..." A thumb hooks under the blond's chin, drawing their lips together as Yaz's tongue slips into her mouth. Her slow exploration ends in a gentle sigh, when she shifts back to breathe. 

"Can't think when you do that." The Doctor's nose scrunches against Yaz's. 

"Good." She teases, reluctantly sitting at the Time Lord's side to lean back against the wall. "I told my family I'd give them a tour." 

"Yeah, thought you might change your mind about that." The Doctor smiles back, tilting her head. She takes in Yaz's glowing pupils and tousled hair, fighting her first instinct to kiss away the hint of a smirk clinging to her lips. "How do you feel about them staying?" 

Yaz frowns, confused. "If me snogging you wasn't clear enough, I'm very happy." 

"It's just..." Nodding, the older woman clears her throat. "You never asked. I was waiting for you to ask." 

"Ask what?" Yaz lowers her head to the side, resting against the Doctor's shoulder. 

"To see your family, or to have them move to the city." She explains. "You didn't, so I thought maybe you didn't want them to be too close, and I waited. But last week, when we talked, you said you wished they were here." The Doctor explains, fidgeting with a loose thread on her sleeve. "Your mum received the job offer on the same day."

"She said it was a tryout." Yaz remembers, intrigued. 

"Ah, yes. Well, I thought maybe you'd like to test it out, see how it feels to have your mum here everyday. You said you were angry with them." 

Yaz considers the idea, imagining the reality of her parents' constant presence. There's an angry flutter at the back of her mind, drowned out by the fading hollowness in her chest that used to ache every time she longed for her family. 

"I think..." Yaz starts tentatively. "Maybe the anger will come later. I'm just happy for now." 

"Good." The Doctor nods to herself, toying with Yaz's fingers clasped with her own. "Tell me what you want, you're in charge. I can always find another steward." 

The statement shakes Yaz's memories loose, as she recalls the last time the Doctor mentioned the job "Wait, it's my mum who's in charge now, right? She gets to run the place." 

Another nod. "Is that a problem?" 

"Well..." Yaz hesitates. "Will your people listen to her?" 

The Time Lord snickers. "If she's anything like you, they won't have a choice." 

The dark haired woman raises a dubious, challenging eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?" 

"Nothing, _boss_." 

Yaz ignores the raising flush in her cheeks. "You're awful."

The Doctor dips her head, laughing as she presses a kiss against Yaz's hairline. "Don't worry, I like it." 

"You like when I'm bossy?" Yaz repeats, with a slow-spreading smirk. "Good to know, I'll remember that." 

The Time Lord hesitates, confused. "Good to know for wh..." Emerald pupils widen. "Oh. You're flirting with me." She blinks, scrambling to find her words as Yaz's double meaning sinks in. "Right? That was flirting, wasn't it?" 

Yaz would have rolled her eyes with anyone else, but the Doctor's occasional bursts of social awkwardness only tug at her heart, leaving her in a lost battle to fight off a fond grin. "Yes, I'm flirting with you." 

"Sorry." The Doctor apologizes, returning the smile. "Takes me a bit to catch up sometim..."

"Don't apologize." Yaz counters, shrugging. "You're cute."

The Doctor's jaw slack opened, warmth coloring her cheeks. "Wha... I'm not... Yaz!" She protests. "I'm not cute, I'm scary." 

"And cute." Yaz reaffirms, glad to see the other woman flustered as she shuffles back to her feet. "I have a tour to give." She heads for the door, slowing her steps. "You..." Hesitating, she runs the tip of her tongue over her bottom lip. "I'll see you tonight, right?" 

"'Aw, you missed me." 

"Yeah, well..." Clearing her throat, Yaz lowers her voice. "I haven't seen you for _three days_ , Doctor." 

"I'll be there." The Time Lord assures, "Even if you're using my own words against me. It's rude, you know." 

Yaz laughs, slipping back into the audience room with a happy grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t forget about their date, but Yaz’s mum wanted to make an entrance :-D


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy series finale day :-) ! I rushed the editing on this chapter a bit, because the next one might not be out until next week. Sorry for any typos!

Leading the way out of the kitchen, Yaz slips through a backdoor and starts down an outside corridor, taking in the view from the castle's highest tower. 

Her brief tour already took her family from the audience room, through their sleeping quarters, until they reached the kitchen where Najia introduced herself to the cooks. 

Yaz looks back over her shoulder, smiling as Hakim and Sonya's attention falls on the mess of red rocks visible through the shiny dome of glass, before she notices her mother's gaze of unimpressed, polite interest. 

With a quiet sigh, she gestures to the next door they encounter and takes the group inside. A few seconds later, a well-known purple shadow flashes through the other end of the hallway, sending Yaz's heart racing with dread. 

Abruptly, the dark-haired woman digs her heels against the stone floor and scans the space around her, grabbing Hakim and Najia's elbows to nudge them into a nook dug into the walls. Yaz shoves her sister forwards, standing behind her family before she dares glancing back through the corridor. 

The mix of growing footsteps and another flash of movement in the corner of her eyes forces Yaz to inch closer to the walls, desperate for the cover of darkness. When she turns back, three pairs of confused, wide eyes are staring. 

"Yaz?" Hakim speaks, frowning. "What's wrong? Why are we hiding?" 

"We're not. Erm..." Yaz hesitates, examining the alcove as she scrambles for an answer. A narrow window, a dusty, forgotten broom in a corner and a painting hung high under the ceiling catch her attention. "That's my favorite painting. I wanted to show you." She explains, willing her voice steady. 

Najia raises a dubious eyebrow, her gaze flickering between her daughter and the portrait of a stern man dressed in absurd Time Lord fashion who's frowning back at her. "And who's he?" 

Yaz freezes, lips parted as she blinks through a burst of panic. 

"You don't even know who he is." Sonya rolls her eyes, shaking her head. "Why did you push us in there?" 

"Of course I know!" She protests, trailing off. "It's a painting of..." 

"Omega, he's one of the founding fathers." A voice explains from over Yaz's shoulder. She startles, looking back with a sigh of relief when she sees Ryan standing at her side. 

"Exactly!" She exclaims, rushing to drag her friend back a few steps. 

"What are you doing? You should be introducing me to your fam..." Ryan’s teasing dies in his throat when Yaz glares, before he raises his hands in surrender. "All right, no introduction. What's wrong? I thought you'd be happy to see th..."

"Missy is lurking somewhere around here." Yaz nervously gnaws at her bottom lip, pointing to the spot where the Time Lady disappeared from. "My parents can't meet her, I need your help." 

Ryan frowns, surprised. "Isn't your mum the new steward? She'll have to work with Missy. Why are you panicking?" 

"If they meet Missy before the Doctor, I'll never convince them not all Time Lords are awful." 

"Yeah, okay." He concedes the point with a distracted nod. "What do you need me to do?" 

"Just... Distract her."

"Missy?" He repeats, unhappy. "But she's so creepy, Yaz." 

The concerned woman sighs. "Please, Ryan." 

He blows out a long breath, shuffling his weight on the tip of his toes. "Ah, fine. But you owe me one." 

"Sure." Yaz agrees, relieved. "I'll take it easy on you next time we spar." 

"Worth it then." Ryan snickers. "Maybe I can hold you off for more than a minute." 

The genuine burst of laughter draws Najia's attention from her hushed conversation with Hakim, as she pulls her husband forwards with Sonya on their heels. 

"Hello there." She smiles and reaches out. "I'm Najia." 

"Ryan." He shakes the offered hand. "I'm Yaz's -"

"Mate!" The dark haired woman interrupts, quickly. She doesn't want her family to worry about her security, there's no need to mention Ryan's job. It's not like she really needs a bodyguard. 

"Just friends?" Sonya repeats with a slow spreading smirk. "Good to know." 

"Sonya..." Hakim sighs, rubbing his forehead. 

"Right, erm..." Ryan hesitates, pointing to the other end of the hallway with a frozen smile he hopes is polite. "I have to... Many things to do. I'll see you..." He stumbles, dashing away from the awkward situation. 

"Around." He finishes to himself, rounding the corner with a relieved breath until he remembers Yaz's request. Another heavy sigh later, he follows the direction his friends pointed him towards.

***************

"Did you have to do that?" Yaz frowns, watching Ryan flee from her sister's aggressive flirting. "He's my friend, you're going to make it awkward." 

"Are you sure you're just friends?" Najia interjects, smile twitching at the corner of her lips. 

"Yes, mum." Yaz rolls her eyes. "He and his granddad took me in when I first got here." Dark eyes brighten in excitement. "You'll love Graham. I need to show you the library next." 

Happy with the idea that will keep Najia, Hakim and Sonya away from a certain meddlesome Time Lady, Yaz strolls up a narrow staircase. 

"And I'm married, you know." She points out distractedly, her mum's knowing smirk lingering in the back of her mind. Ryan is a close friend, and she wants to make sure her family's arrival won't interfere with their relationship. 

"Sure, you are." Najia repeats, voice dripping with sarcasm. 

The open hostility slows Yaz's steps, as she turns her head to meet a bitter, fiery gaze. "What's that supposed to mean?" She asks tentatively. 

"We're your family, sweetheart." Najia softens her voice, laying a calming hand on her daughter's elbow. "You don't have to pretend with us." 

"Pret..." She repeats, confused. "I _am_ married, mum. There was a ceremony with guests, and look..." Yaz tugs her sleeve up, showing her bracelet. "A wedding band." 

Najia huffs at the sight. "Yes. I know what those people forced you to go through."

The contempt-filled statement freezes Yaz, until Hakim interrupts. 

"She hasn't hurt you, has she?" He whispers, a distressed edge to his voice. 

"Hurt m..." Yaz interrupts herself, eyes growing wide. "You mean the Doctor? No, of course not." Grabbing her father's hand, she squeezes gently. "She wouldn't, I promise." 

He bites his lip, struggling to gauge the sincerity of his daughter's reassurances. 

"You read my letters, right?" Yaz insists, desperate to quell both her parent's voiced concerns and Sonya's worried stare. 

"Then you know I'm..." _Happy._ The word sticks to the roof of Yaz's mouth, the younger woman aware it might be too big of a turnaround for Najia to wrap her head around. "I'm fine. I swear." 

"I have friends, and a job that I started today." She continues, pleading. "I'm teaching again. And the Doctor is nothing like you imagined. She’s great, mum." 

The last sentence chirps at Najia's short-lived open-mindedness, reminding her of her eldest's precarious situation. "Yaz, please. It's just us." She interrupts, grabbing her wrist to tug her daughter against a wall.

"You've been living with them for so long." She sighs, shoulders heavy. "And you were alone." Najia's voice breaks on the last word, tears glistening in her eyes. "Not anymore. We're here now, you don't have to lie to protect us." 

"You were forced to come here." The older woman continues. "Time Lords took you away from home, and forced you into a marriage you didn't want. You're strong, and maybe you're used to your new life, but... I don't think you really believe that woman is great, Yaz." 

"I'm just asking you to be honest with us." Najia appeals with sincere anxiety. 

Yaz freezes, stuck between standing up for the Doctor and avoiding an argument with her mum. She knows fighting might trigger emotions she keeps carefully bottled up, a mix of anger and disappointment at her parents' lies. The prospect makes her stomach tightens in a queasy knot, and Yaz closes her eyes, giving in. 

"You're right." She offers weakly, swallowing through a burst of guilt that squeezes her throat. "It's hard." 

The words land heavily in Yaz's chest, leaving a harsh, poignant hollowness that feels like betrayal. Before she can dwell on the sensation, Hakim's solid arms wrap around her back, guiding her in a steadying embrace. She hugs back, grateful for the peaceful moment that allows her to gather her scrambled thoughts. 

With a shaky intake of breath, Yaz pushes away from her dad and musters a smile. "Do you want to see the library now?" 

Hakim nods amiably, Sonya shrugs, and Najia squeezes her wrist in sympathy. "Of course. Show us."

"Mum?" Meeting the older woman's affectionate gaze, Yaz squares her shoulders. "There's nothing between Ryan and I. He's like a brother to me. Leave him alone." 

Najia nods. "Of course. You might want to keep an eye on Sonya though." 

Yaz glances back, rolling her eyes when she catches her sister playfully wriggling her eyebrows. "You're so annoying. Are you sure we're related?" She teases, firmly ignoring the dread-filled way her stomach twists, as they step under the light of Gallifrey's twin suns. 

***************

“I’m sorry.” The apology spills from Yaz’s lips as soon as the Doctor slips into their quarters, freezing the blond in her tracks. “So, so sorry.”

The Doctor carefully scans the room, finding Yaz laying on her back on the purple soda, both hands covering her face. 

“Yaz.” She quips teasingly, padding closer to kneel in front of the couch. “Did you cook again?”

“What?” Caught off-guard, Yaz snorts as the tension coiled in her chest loosens. “How did you come up with that? There's no smoke.” She points out. 

"Well, you're apologizing." The Doctor says, her palm settling over Yaz's stomach. "What's wrong?" 

"My mum hates you." 

"Yes." The Doctor nods. "I figured she wouldn't be thri..."

"And she's convinced I'm not happy." Yaz continues. "I didn't want to fight with her, so I just..." She hesitates, sighing. "I went with it."

"I don't understand." 

With a sharp intake of breath, Yaz turns to the side and forces herself to face the Doctor, fighting a smile at the woman's earnest gaze as she waits not-so-patiently. 

"She thinks I hate being here. That I hate you." 

"Ah." The Doctor purses her lips, considering the idea. Quiet seconds tick by, until she stands and pats Yaz's knees. "Move." She slips under raised legs, finger trailing along the seam of Yaz's trousers when the younger woman rests her feet in her lap. 

"You know how you were worried about Rassilon's assassin being free?" 

"Yes." Yaz nods, sinking into the couch with the gentle touch running up and down her legs. 

"They're not the only... Safety issue." 

"What do you mean?" 

"Gallifrey has a long-standing rivalry with a race called the Kaasavins. They're known for their plots and conspiracies. Then you have the Sontarans, who are angry because we interfered in their war with the Rutans. Missy is always looking for ways to mess with my head, and I think..."

"What are you saying?" Yaz prompts, when the Doctor pauses in her list of potential threats. 

"The less people who knows..." She sighs. "How much you mean to me, the safer you are. The safer _we_ are." 

"But everyone knows we're married." Yaz replies, frowning. 

"I'm a Time Lord." The Doctor reminds her, gently. "Most people assumes we tolerate each other because we have to. At best, they'll think we're friends, which is not enough to put you in danger."

"Hold on, when I first got here, you said I was already in danger. That's why you were waiting up for me when I crashed on our balcony." 

"Well, you were an easy target more than anything." She pauses. "And an important one." 

"A target?" Yaz repeats, raising a dubious eyebrow. 

"You didn't know anything. It would have been so easy to manipulate or get rid of you. Killing the Lord-President's wife is a powerful statement." The Doctor defends, softening her voice. "And I wasn't aware I married a martial arts expert." She adds teasingly. 

Yaz's shoulders loosen, recognizing the valid reasoning behind the Doctor's arguments. "Right, you're right." She admits, pinching the bridge of her nose. "So, you're not... Angry? Or disappointed?" 

The Doctor leans her head against her fist, elbow perched on the armrest. "I think I'm disappointed a bit." She catches Yaz's wide eyes in the corner of her vision, rushing to clarify her thoughts. "Not with you. I just... I wondered what having a family would be like." 

Yaz gulps through a sudden knot of sympathetic pain, sitting up to take one of the Doctor's hand between both of hers. "We're family, you and I." Thumb rubbing against her knuckles, the younger woman's voice takes a pleading edge. "Ryan and Graham too. We're here for each other, that's what being a family is about." 

"Maybe my parents will come around with time, or maybe they won't." Yaz sighs, meeting an eager hazel gaze with her own. "But you have people who care about you." 

The Doctor blinks, struggling to wrap her head around the concept. She leans to the side, lips lingering against Yaz's cheek in grateful affection. "I care about you too, you know." 

"Yeah." Yaz smiles, dropping back against the cushion, their tangled hands resting on her stomach. "You're not good at being subtle." 

The Doctor snickers, playing with the other woman's fingers as silent seconds tick by. 

"Sometimes..." Yaz breaks the peaceful moment, gnawing at her bottom lip as she tries to decide if she wants to voice a lasting feeling that's been plaguing her thoughts over the last few weeks. 

"Yes?" The Doctor prompts, her unoccupied palm patting against Yaz's ankle.

"I wish we were two normal people living somewhere quiet. The Paradise Islands are supposed to be great." 

"Yeah." The Time Lord smiles, eyes glazing over. "Would be nice, wouldn't it?" 

"Yeah." Yaz repeats, returning the grin. "It would." Closing her eyes, she allows her mind build the mental picture she's describing. "You could be a mechanic. And we could get a puppy." 

"What would you do?" The Doctor toys with the idea, surprised by the hint of longing blossoming in her chest. 

"Teach." Yaz responds instantly, nodding to herself. "I love it." 

The dark haired woman inhales sharply, eyelids fluttering as she takes in the Doctor's intrigued gaze. "That..." Yaz trails off, pointedly motioning to the space between them. "Us. It would be so much easier. We could just get to know each other, without all the..." She pauses again, huffing. "Distractions." 

With a sympathetic smile, the Doctor jumps to her feet, letting Yaz's legs fall back against the sofa. 

"Give me a minute." The blond throws over her shoulder, striding to the door. She leaves the room for a few seconds, before sticking her head back inside. "Bit more than a minute, more like thirteen. Don't go anywhere." 

"Who's bossy now?" Yaz quips, watching the other woman snickers before she leaves again.

***************

Yaz springs to her feet minutes later, when a familiar blue box materializes in the middle of the room with a faint wheeze. She slips inside, offering a confused look when the Doctor eagerly glances back from her spot around the console. 

"Ready?" 

"Ready for what?" Yaz repeats, confused. 

"Promised you a date, didn't I?" 

Blinking, Yaz looks down at her attire of plaid pajama bottoms and black t-shirt. "Like this?"

"Like what?" Confused, the Doctor raises her head and catches Yaz's intent stare at her own clothes. "Erm... Yes? You can go change if you want, but it's not like anyone will see you. Well, except me. And I think you look beautiful."

Yaz concedes the point with a chuckle. The Doctor's mix of dark blue trousers and jumper doesn't exactly fit the definition of dressing up either. "A date where nobody will see us? I'm up for that."

Silence lingers, as Yaz stands in the entrance, frown deepening when a pair of expectation-filled hazel eyes settle on her. "What?" 

"You might want to hang on _before_ I take off this time." 

"You think that was funny, don’t you?" Yaz challenges playfully, joining the other woman at the console. She steps into the Doctor's space, hands firmly wrapping around the woman's left upper arm. 

"What are you doing?" 

"I'm hanging on." 

The Doctor hesitates. "How am I supposed to drive?" 

"I thought you were clever." Yaz smirks. "Sort it out." 

"And you say I'm ridiculous." She groans playfully, brain already calculating how to reroute the controls on one side of the console. 

A few minutes, a couple of flicked switches and a glare aimed at the ceiling later, the Doctor stands near the takeoff lever, grinning. "Done. Ready?" She asks again, feeling the answering nod from where Yaz's chin is hooked over her shoulder. 

Yaz's fingers tighten reflexively through the short flight as the TARDIS vibrates, a persistent tremble echoing through the floor. 

Sensing Yaz’s unsteady legs, the Doctor shakes her grip loose, looping her arm around her waist to draw her against her side properly. "Relax. I do know what I'm doing." She assures, glancing to the ship's display. 

The responding mumble about bumpy flights only widens the Time Lord's grin, as a pair of arms weaves its way around her hips. With the push of a blue lever, the TARDIS stabilizes, and Yaz's sigh of relief melts against the blond's neck. 

"Where are we?" 

"See for yourself." The Doctor winks, watching Yaz saunters her way down the stairs. She grabs the door handle, eyes growing wide at the sight that welcomes her. 

The planet she doesn't recognize seems to glow in the darkness of space, its hues of blues and greens brightened by countless, vibrant stars. 

"Earth." The Doctor informs, padding down the TARDIS' steps. She stands at Yaz's side, pulling the second door open. "Where humans started off." 

"Why did we leave?" She whispers, mesmerized by the view. "It's so... Colorful." 

The Doctor breathes out a soft chuckle, fingertips sliding down Yaz's forearm until she can lace their hands together. "For now. They'll ruin it." 

The answer catches the younger woman's attention, her gaze finally leaving the planet displayed in front of the ship. "What do you mean, ruin it? The whole planet?" 

"Hm." The Doctor nods, shrugging. "Ends up as a massive, watery rock. Not for million of years though, humans don't even exist yet." 

"Why?" Yaz's indignation draws the Doctor's eyes in her direction. 

"Same as always. They put the wrong people in charge. Once they realized their mistake, it was too late." She blinks, pausing to consider the cold facts of Earth's history with a sad smile. "Some escaped, scattered around the universe." 

"That's why we're everywhere, we had to run." Yaz realizes with a quiet gasp. 

"Didn't they teach you that, in human school?" 

Yaz snickers, happy for the distraction. "Human school? Do you think we get together every day to talk about our history?" 

"Well, erm..." The Doctor scrunches her nose. "Don't you?" 

"No!" Yaz laughs. "We're in the same schools as other Gallifreyan kids. There's no special class to teach us how to be human. Shouldn't you know that? You're the Lord-President."

"Can't know everything." The Doctor grumbles, until Yaz nudges her way under her crossed arms, head laying on her shoulder as they take in the view. 

A soft pressure later, the Time Lord's cheek is resting against Yaz’s hair, hands shifting to the small of her back. 

"So, why here?" Yaz wonders, intrigued by the choice. "We could go everywhere and anywhere, right? It's a TARDIS. Why did you bring us here?" 

"It's where I come when..." Hesitating, the Doctor struggles to put into words Time Lords' chaotic perception of reality. "When it gets too loud." She pauses. "In my brain." 

"But why Earth?" Yaz lowers her voice, sensing the Doctor's tentative explanation. 

"I don't know, I just... I really like it." Hazel eyes turn to take in the sparkling stars shining around the planet. "It's beautiful." 

Yaz agrees mutely, humming. 

"Is it all right?" The Doctor suddenly worries after a short-lived silence, gnawing at her bottom lip. "I've never planned a date before, I wasn't sure how to g..."

"It's perfect." Yaz interrupts, muffling a smile against a nearby shoulder. "Thank you for trusting me with your favorite place." 

"Ah, Yaz." The Doctor shrugs, grinning. "Any place with you is my favorite." 

"Do you have to be so bloody charming all the time?" Yaz groans, despite the warm flush coloring her cheeks. "I can't keep up." 

"I can stop." Her grin morphing into a self-satisfied smirk, the Doctor counters. "If you don't like it." 

"I didn't say that, did I?" Yaz argues, raising to her tiptoes to press their lips together, - if only to muffle the Doctor's brash laughter - happy when the other woman lets out a noise halfway between a gasp and a pleased moan. 

The blond recovers from the surprise quickly, tongue prying against parted lips. 

"You know you can come to me, right?" Yaz offers, when they break apart. She shuffles far enough to hold eye contact. "If it gets too loud in your head, and you want to talk. I know I can't see the universe like you do, but I want to be there fo..."

"Thank you." The Doctor interrupts, brushing a kiss against Yaz's forehead in thankful affection. "Sometimes I just need a bit of quiet." 

"We can be quiet together." Yaz shrugs, giving the older woman space to consider the offer. 

"Think I'd like that." Pursing her lips, the Doctor responds and frees one of her hands, digging in her trousers' pockets. "Biscuit?" 

The sharp turnaround in the conversation leaves Yaz laughing against the Doctor, as she confusedly munches on a custard cream. 

"You're worse than Graham." 

"Graham is obsessed with every sort of food. I'm obsessed with biscuits." The Time Lord argues, crumbs falling on her shirt. "I'm better." She pauses, lowering her voice. "Did you know he keeps a stash of sandwich under his desk?" 

"He what?"

"Hm. Saw it." The Doctor confirms, conspiratorially.

"When?" Yaz presses further, intrigued. 

She pauses, frowning. "It's a really long story that involves Missy, a few members of the High Council and a skimmer."

"I love stories." 

"All right." The Doctor nods, sitting on the ground, her legs dangling out of the TARDIS. She pats the space next to her, smiling. 

Carefully keeping her gaze away from the bottomless space under the ship, Yaz settles at her side, head falling back against the Doctor's shoulder. 

"First year at the Academy, Graham was young back then, if you can imagine. I used to spend all my time in the library. Missy knew it, followed me in one day, which was odd. Made a lot more sense when the building was put on lock-down, after she found me. See, what happened was..."

Yaz's eyes drift back to the starry sky, her mind building mental pictures of the Doctor's story as a persistent grin clings to her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone reading/leaving kudos/comments!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short chapter, because I really wanted the next two scenes coming up to be posted together (And putting them in this update had it over 5K words, which takes forever to proof-read). 
> 
> I'm aiming to update again at some point either this weekend or Monday, so hopefully the wait won't be too long :-D

Yaz wanders down a torch-lighted hallway, frowning at the cold, dark walls made of stones. 

The decor doesn't fit how she imagined the interior of the highest tower of the castle, and she's left perplexed by the sinister atmosphere. 

Her steps echo through empty space as Yaz nears the room she's looking for, its bright blue door clashing with somber colors. 

Pushing against the wooden surface, she peeks through the doorway to see the Doctor standing in front of a table, examining a map. 

The Lord-President's office - Yaz had no idea the Time Lord even had an office, Ryan had to tell her - matches its owner.

A mix of books and papers seems to be covering every available surface, with the roaring fireplace warming the atmosphere. 

The deep red color of the walls reminds her of the front room in their quarters, and she smiles when she spots a golden metallic puzzle - a trinket that somehow found its way into Yaz's shopping bag on her way back from the marketplace - displayed on the mantle. 

Yaz is about to speak up when she notices the Doctor's gaze glued to a chair in the opposite corner. 

"Of course I know your name. But I get nervous sometimes, and words happen. Sorry." She sighs, exasperated. "And you _are_ Yaz's mum, I don't know why you keep going on abo..."

"Because I have a name, _Doctor_." 

Yaz's eyes grow wide when Najia rounds the chair, notepad in her hands. 

The Doctor runs tense fingers down her face, fighting back against a burst of genuine impatience. "All right, I'll do my best to remember. Can I help you with something, or are you here to complain about me again?" 

Yaz's eyebrows shoot up at the question, stunned. 

Her tour of the Capitol ended after she showed the library to her family, with Graham insisting to keep Najia, Hakim and Sonya for dinner. Yaz declined the invitation and scurried back to her quarters to apologize to the Doctor.

A decision she can't bring herself to regret, not when the evening ended in what was possibly the best date of Yaz's life. 

But when she offered to officially introduce the Doctor to Najia the next morning - knowing the two women would be working together - the Time Lord declined, insisted they would be fine ("I work with people that hate me every day, how bad can your mum be?") and sent her on her way to work. 

Yaz went willingly, trusting both her mum and the Doctor could act like adults. A mistake, she now realizes. 

A sharp intake of breath later, Yaz is seconds away from clearing her throat to signal her presence when Najia replies. 

"I wouldn't complain, if you were doing your job properly." She pauses. "I need to know more about the Flurs' visit. How many of your people are supposed to attend the welcome feast? I tried to ask, but they keep avoiding me." 

"Can't imagine why." The Doctor mutters under her breath, drawing a glare in her direction. 

"What?" 

"Nothing."

Najia blinks, slowly allowing her attention to slide back to her notes. She misses the face the Doctor pulls, a forced smile dripping with annoyance that's so obvious, Yaz has to bite her lip to muffle an amused chuckle. 

"Can you at least tell me where I can find your people?" Najia grumbles, unhappy. "Since you can't count them yourself." 

"I'd like to help." The Doctor shrugs. "But you know us. We love lurking in the dark." 

"And kidnapping children. You're good at that." 

The Doctor’s jaw clicks shut, the Time Lord tipped off-balance by the abrupt reminder of the circumstances that led to her first meeting with Yaz. "I had nothing to do with what happ..."

"Do you expect me to believe you?" Najia interrupts, scowling. "And even if it's true, you still allowed it to happen, didn't you?" 

"I'm sorry." The Doctor breathes out, after a lasting silence. The guilt she does her best to push in a corner of her mind - especially after Yaz told her to let it go - flares, lowering her voice. "I tried to stop the wed..."

"Not hard enough." Najia grits through her teeth, letting months of pent-up resentment guide her actions. "You should have done more. Yaz will never have a normal life, the only way I can be close to her is by working with you, and the rest of my family will suff..."

"My life is fine." Yaz cuts into the conversation from her spot, leaning against the doorway as she carefully carves her features in a neutral expression. "You don't have to treat me like a child anymore."

The Doctor flinches at the interruption, while Najia's jaw slacken. "Yaz. What are you d..."

"It's not important, mum." She squares her shoulders, walking close enough to reach for the older woman’s hand. "It's not your job to be angry for me. I'm an adult, I can fight my own battles." 

Najia's lips part as she scrambles for an answer. Yaz's words leave her reeling and struggling to adjust to her daughter's sudden defense of the woman she blames for the destruction of their peaceful family life. 

Blowing out a long breath, she tilts her head and squeezes Yaz's fingers. "Why are you taking her side?" 

"That's not..." Yaz sighs. "I'm not taking anybody's side. Of course you're angry about what happened to me. I was angry too. But it's not fair to take it out on the Doctor." 

"Why not?" 

"Because she had nothing to do with it!" Yaz snaps, a pleading edge to her tone. "It's not like she picked me."

Najia's frown deepens. "How would you know?" 

"She would have told me." 

"She w..." Najia repeats, with an incredulous chuckle. "Do you really believe that?" 

Yaz glances back, meeting intrigued hazel irises following the conversation. She fights the reflex smile twitching at the corner of her mouth, attention returning to her mum. "I do. And..." 

Trailing off, she considers her next sentence. Somehow, Yaz doesn't think 'And I know the Doctor had no idea who I was because her best friend, slash enemy with psychopathic tendencies, took me on a time-traveling tour of the city' is the best way to ease Najia's worries.

"And she has no reason to lie." Yaz covers up quickly. 

The weak argument doesn't faze Najia, who takes her daughter's other hand. "Let's talk about this later, just the two of us. I want to know what you're thinking, sweetheart." 

Yaz swallows down an impulsive rejection - the prospect of talking to her mum about her feelings leaves her with a heavy weight in her stomach - as she wonders if admitting her lies to Hakim and Najia wouldn't be for the best. 

What she thought was a simple avoidance of a fight seemed to turn into a tension-filled relationship between her mum and the Doctor, without Yaz even noticing. 

"Yeah, all right." The dark haired woman agrees, nodding. "But you need to..." She pauses. "Be nice." 

"No." Najia denies sternly, eyes hardening. "I don't know what she said to you, but I'm not falling f..." 

"Mum." Yaz sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. "I'm not asking you to make friends. Can't you just... Get along?" She suggests, throwing her hands in the air.

"No." Najia stubbornly repeats. "I can't." 

"Fine." Yaz snaps, walking away from the corner. 

With deliberately measured steps, she ignores her mum's gaze burning through her back and pads to the table where the Doctor's attention is glued back to the map spread in front of her. "You can leave then." 

Najia's quiet gasp lands heavily in the strained silence, making the Time Lord flinch. 

Yaz settles at the Doctor's side, lacing their fingers together with a glance over her shoulders. She meets her mum's narrowed pupils with a glare of her own, before the older woman turns on her heels and leaves the room. 

The echo of a slamming door is still fading when the Doctor clears her throat. "I was fine. You didn't have to fight with your mum over m..."

"Yes, I bloody did." Yaz counters through gritted teeth. "Would you let Missy speak to me like that?" The Doctor's head shake strengthens her resolve. "I didn't think so. I won't watch my mum be mad on my behalf, when she has no reason to be." 

Yaz huffs, anger fading from her voice. "We've worked so hard for this." She raises their joined hands with a pointed look. "I won't let anyone interfere, not even my family. She's been here a week, is that..." 

Uncertain she wants the answer to her own question, Yaz hesitates. "Has she been treating you this way the whole time?" 

The blond shrugs. "It's true, everything she says. We forced you to leave your home and your family, and to get married t..."

"Shut up. We've talked about this. Don't let my mum get to you, I’ll talk to her again." Yaz interrupts, with a sad sigh. "She needs to see how happy I am." 

The Doctor swallows audibly, touched by the casual admission. She shifts and clasps Yaz's hand between both of hers, kissing her palm reverently. 

The gesture softens Yaz's features as she allows her own upset mood to trickle away from her mind. She blinks, bumping their shoulders together. "You have to stop riling her up though. I've never seen any of your people lurking in the dark." 

"Missy would." The Time Lord defends herself, scrunching her nose. Yaz's single arched eyebrow draws a resigned sigh from her lungs. "Fine. I'll try my best to be nice." 

"Promise you'll tell me, if her attitude doesn't change."

The Doctor ponders the request, until she meets a hazelnut stare. Telling Yaz is probably for the best, her social skills leave her unequipped to deal with the minefield that seems to be Najia's relationship with her daughter. 

"Promise." 

Yaz nods, gauging the sincerity behind the soft, whispered word. Satisfied, she lets her attention drift to the map spread on the table before them. "What's that?" 

The Doctor’s eyes return to the problem that drove her to her office, blowing out a long breath. "A TARDIS is missing. I'm going through the list of ships of every repair shop on Gallifrey." 

Yaz frowns, confused. "Every shop? One by one?" 

"I know. Might take a while." 

"Why do you bother? We have loads of T..." 

The Doctor tilts her head, caught off-guard by the question. "There's a time-traveling spaceship missing from our fleet. Do you know how many species in the universe would dream to put their hands on our technology?" She frowns. "Or their paws, some species have paws. Or tentacles." 

"I get it." Yaz snickers, as she shifts her grip to circle the Doctor's elbow. "Do you need help?" 

"Sure." The Doctor replies, grabbing a book on the table - a heavy, black tome full of charts - before backing Yaz into the armchair. 

The dark haired woman settles into it and scans through the first sheets of dusty paper. 

"What am I looking for?" Yaz wonders, glancing up to to see the Doctor wander closer, another volume tucked under her arm. 

The blond scans the room, scrunching her nose when she notices the only seat is taken by Yaz - she should really get a sofa - as she plops down on the ground, back resting against the recliner. 

"This." The Doctor says, passing a note over her shoulder. 

"It’s the registration number of the missing TARDIS. Got attacked last week, on Kirstano. The pilots were supposed to bring it back to the Capitol and have a couple of subsystems rebuilt, but there’s no record at the shop. We..." The Doctor bites her lip, hastily correcting her own words. " _They_ don't remember the ship landing either." 

Yaz smiles, tugging gently on golden hair falling against her thigh. "What were you planning to do with that ship?"

"Don't know what you're talking about."

"Doctor." Yaz growls, playfully pulling a little harder on a stray, blond lock, until the Doctor tips her head back and meets her eyes with a quiet sigh. 

"The navigation system needs rewiring, and the telepathic circuit is down." She starts, bashful enthusiasm brightening the words. "What if I can combine them?" 

"What?" The younger woman presses, biting her lip. The childlike giddiness sparkling in the Doctor's pupils as she rambles about mechanics really shouldn't be endearing, Yaz realizes, but something about seeing the Time Lord in her element has a magnetic effect on her. 

"... maybe even telepathic navigation!" 

The Doctor ends her speech with a grin, as Yaz tunes back into the conversation. 

Flustered, she scrambles for an answer. "Does that mean you won't have to trip all over the control room to drive?"

"What? I don't trip, I slide. It's fas..." The rest of the rebuff gets stuck in her throat when she glances back over her shoulder, catching dark irises twinkling in amusement. 

"You're making fun of me."

"Maybe." Yaz teases. She cards through the fine hair at the back of the Doctor's neck, allowing her fingertips to linger in soft scratches. 

Watching goosebumps trail down warm skin, Yaz maps out the column of the Doctor’s throat, tracing the edge of a white undershirt as she wishes she could follow the same path with her mouth.

Glancing up, Yaz finds a green-brown gaze brightened by earnest curiosity, as they hold eye contact in the growing, electric silence. 

Yaz sighs and throws a disgruntled look to the book that's about to slide off her lap. "Can't the missing TARDIS wait?" 

The Doctor blinks, reluctantly snapping out of the daze induced by the mesmerizing touch against her neck. "No." The word slips from her mouth, the rational part of her brain taking over. 

"I..." The Time Lord sighs. "It really can’t. I’m missing something. First, our ships get attacked by an alien species - or more than one species - that we can't track down, and now we've lost a TARDIS." 

"You're worried." Yaz says, a statement more than a question as she reads the troubled edge to the Doctor's voice. 

"Not really." 

The quick denial draws Yaz's eyebrows up. They don't usually discuss the Doctor's job further than the day-to-day problems they face in audiences, and she doesn't know how far she can push. Lips parted, she inhales sharply. 

"You could tell me, you know. If you were worried." 

"I'm not..." Gulping, the Doctor fidgets with a page of the now-opened book resting against her knees. "Unworried."

Yaz smiles, shifting her hand to settle against the Doctor's shoulder. "I'm with you. We'll sort it out." 

With a faint noise of approval, the blond leans into the contact, cheek resting on the back of Yaz's fingers, as they silently start scanning through countless charts of seemingly random numbers. 

***************

"Why are you lying?" 

Yaz jumps at the voice coming from behind her back, startled. She twirls on her heels, finding Sonya's piercing eyes facing her. 

With a long sigh, Yaz wonders how the younger woman found her, after she spent most of the evening getting to know her new coworkers at a welcome party thrown together by Grace. 

"What are you going on about?" Yaz wonders, quickening her steps through a set of marble stairs. 

"Come on." Sonya persists, shaking her head. "How long are you going to pretend you're unhappy?" 

"I don't know what you're talking about, Sonya." 

A hand grips her wrist, tugging Yaz to a stop against a concrete column. "Stop playing dumb. You're lucky mum and dad stayed in their room, or you would have blown your own cover at dinner."

Yaz frowns, remembering the meal she shared with the Doctor, Graham and Ryan in the canteen earlier, after a long afternoon of fruitless research. 

"What did I do?" 

"What?" Sonya blinks, raising a dubious eyebrow. "You have no idea, really?" 

"I'm tired. Either let me go, or tell me whatever it is you think you saw."

"What I think I saw?" Sonya repeats, voice wavering in amusement. "I saw you and your wife not being able to keep your hands to yourselves for an hour. I saw you laugh at everything she said. Honestly, Yaz, either you married Gallifrey's best comedian, or you're in love with h..."

"Shut up."

"I'm not even mentioning all the eye sex you two had g..."

"Shut up." Yaz snaps, twisting them around to press a rough palm to Sonya's mouth. 

"I don't know... I didn't... Do that." She denies halfheartedly, fighting the memory of the Doctor's arm casually draped over her shoulders for most of the time they spent in the canteen. 

Yaz's weak argument widens Sonya's smirk, until she relents and takes back her hand. 

"Fine. Maybe I..." Yaz bites her lip, reluctant to let her sister win. "I don't hate being married to the Doctor." 

Sonya snorts. "Don't hate. Sure." She says, tone dripping with sarcasm. "Why did you lie to mum and dad then?" 

"Because, Sonya." Yaz starts, exhaustion seeping through her words. "My other choice was to have a fight with mum, two hours after she arrived. I didn't want to argue." 

"And you thought lying would make the situation better?" 

"I didn't... It's not..." Yaz stumbles, shoulders heaving as she trails off. "I didn't think."

"Obviously." Sonya deadpans, ignoring her sister's annoyed look. 

"Are you here to make fun of me? Because if you're looking for a fight, I'm n..."

"I'm here to tell you mum wants to talk. She's in their room." Sonya rolls her eyes. "And if you want to stick with your ridiculous story, you'll need to have a serious talk with your wife about the way you two act around each other." 

Yaz hesitates. She considered telling the truth to her parents earlier, and Sonya's unwelcome observations only reinforce her initial plan. She can't - won't - ask the Doctor to watch her behavior when they're together in public.

Partly because Yaz has enough self-awareness to admit she loves the attention, and partly because she can already picture the blond's confused head tilt and wide eyes, a deadly mix that makes her look like a sad puppy. The expression always tugs at Yaz's heart, turning the rational part of her brain into mush. 

"I'll tell them the truth." She shakes her head. "I have to. But I tried earlier, and mum didn't take it well." 

"Shocking." Sonya teases, sighing when she takes in Yaz’s stubborn, downcast gaze. She pauses and decides to stop her teasing, gently pulling her sister out of her somber mood. "I'll help."

"What?" 

"I can talk to dad." The younger woman explains. "He's worried about you, but I don't think he's angry." 

Yaz hesitates, suspicious. "Why would you do that?" 

"Because I'm nice." Sonya snickers. "And your wife is all right. She's scared of me, I love it." 

"What? When did y..." 

"And Ryan says she's a good person." Sonya continues. 

Yaz's eyebrows shoot up. "Ryan? My friend Ryan? When did you talk to him?"

"Your _bodyguard_ Ryan, yes." She smirks and ignores Yaz’s confused tone, glad to see a faint flush coloring her face. "You're a terrible liar, Yaz."

"I know." She sighs. "Listen, you can't tell mum and dad about Ryan's job. They really don't need to know."

"Fine, don't worry." Sonya shrugs, slipping out of Yaz’s grip to walk down a nearby hallway. "You should go see them, mum was getting impatient." 

Yaz sighs, nodding distractedly until her brain catches up with the last part of their conversation. "Sonya, wait. When did you talk to the Doct..." 

She falls silent, sticking her head around the corner of a wall to see her sister scurrying away. 

Huffing unhappily, Yaz turns on her heels and heads towards her family's quarters, ignoring the nervous flutter in her stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading and any sort of feedback is very appreciated!!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay, I just went through the craziest week (like a lot of people, I’m guessing).
> 
> I'd call this more a second part to the last update than a new chapter, because it's shorter than usual! The next one will be back to normal length. Enjoy 😄

Shuffling her weight from one foot to the other, Yaz's hand hovers near the door handle leading to her parents' living quarters.

With a sharp intake of breath, she settles the flurry of nerves in her stomach, knocks two times and barely waits for her mum's acknowledgement as she steps into the room. 

"They can do telepathy." Najia announces, chirping at Yaz's hope for a reasonable conversation. 

"What?" She asks, confused. "Who?"

"Time Lords." Hakim specifies, perched on the edge of the mattress, as Najia paces the floor in front of the bed. "They can do telepathy. They can get in your head, and co..."

"And control people." Najia takes over. "They can force you to think like them. They can change how you feel, or act." 

Yaz blows out a long breath, struggling to keep a flare of frustration under control. "And you think... What? That's what the Doctor did to me, and that's why I want you to get along with her?" 

"Yes!"

"That doesn't make any sense." Yaz fires back, exasperated. "Telepathy is not real, that's madn..."

"It is." Hakim insists eagerly. "I've heard about it, and your mum tal..."

"And I agree with him." Najia hurries to cut off her husband with a pointed glare. "It would explain why you're taking the Doctor's side, after what you told us. You said you life here is hard, Yaz."

Clearing her throat, Yaz scrambles for a way to gently share the honest version of her new life with her parents. 

When she realizes there's no easy way to break news that will tip over Hakim and Najia's life-long belief, she braces herself. "I lied." 

"And I'm sorry I did. I had no idea how to tell you I'm happy." With a shaky smile, Yaz pleads. "I know it's a lot to accept, and it's against everything you think you know about the Capitol, and Time Lords, but... Maybe if you met the Doctor, you would understand." 

"Really met." Yaz clarifies, watching Najia's deepening frown and Hakim's genuine confusion play on his features. "Just give her a chance. She changed _my_ mind."

"Of course she did." Najia counters, carefully picking her words. "She can get into your head, Yaz. I'm sure it was easy for her." 

"That's not what I meant." Yaz sighs quietly, before raising her voice. "I think we had one conversation, the first month after I moved here. The Doctor left me alone until I..." _Snapped at her._ "Sought her out. How could she get into my head without talking?" 

"Maybe they don't have to." Hakim suggests from his spot on the bed, fueling Najia's convictions. 

"Exactly! You don't know how telepathy works. They might not have to talk at all." 

Yaz blinks, hanging onto the last thread of her dwindling patience. "Listen to yourself!" She begs, throwing her hands in the air. "Since when do you agree with dad's conspiracy theories?" 

A glimpse of hesitation flashes through Najia's pupils, allowing Yaz to press forwards. 

"I know where you're coming from and why you're worried. But you don't understand anything about my life now. I've been here for a lot longer than both of you, and nothing changed. I still hate Time Lords." She explains. "But the Doctor is different. A few of them are, I've met decent people." 

With a shaky breath, Yaz continues. "I haven't seen you in months, mum. I know I've changed a bi..." 

"You didn't." Najia rejects the idea sadly. "She changed you, Yaz. It's different." 

"I..." Yaz's voice lowers, taking in the genuine heart-break turning her mother's eyes shiny. "I saw things I never could imagined back home, of course I'm not the same person. It means I grew up, not that someone is controlling me. Why can't you trust me?" 

"Because you're wrong. Time Lords are all the same." 

"How would you know?" Yaz's gaze hardens, a renewed sense of anger filling her chest as Najia stubbornly refuses to listen. "I know them better than you." 

"And I've lived through the consequences of their decisions for much longer than you. Those people don't care about anything. They drag us into wars that never ends, to make a point, to prove that they're the mightiest civilization in the universe." The older woman scowls, spitting out the words. 

"People died for their pride. But it doesn't matter to them, because they're never the ones doing the fighting." 

Rubbing her forehead, Yaz scrambles to redirect the conversation. "I know. But none of this is the Doctor's fault. She isn't responsible for her people's acti..."

"Just like she isn't responsible for your wedding?" Najia pushes, stepping into Yaz's space.

"Yes!" 

"How long are you going to make excuses for her?"

"I'm not." Yaz shakes her head. "Why won't you give her a chance, mum?" 

"Because she's manipulating you, sweetheart." Najia softens her voice, trying to make her daughter see reason. "Your relationship is based on her lies." 

The statement lands heavily in the narrow space between Yaz and Najia, bringing to the surface emotions that keep bubbling in the younger woman's brain. 

"Sounds familiar." She murmurs, straightening her back when her parents throw identical, confused glances in her direction. 

"You've been lying to me - to us - since Sonya was born. You said our family was safe from Gallifreyan laws, that you were allowed to keep two daughters." 

"We never meant to hurt you." Hakim responds, standing slowly. He rehashed that specific discussion many times in his head, months of pent-up guilt guiding his prepared speech. 

"There was no sense in having you and Sonya worry about things out of your control. Out of _our_ control." He sighs. "We were protecting you from things you couldn't possibly und..." 

"I was so angry with you. With both of you." Yaz interrupts. "And you know who told me you thought you were doing the right thing by lying?" She trudges forwards, ignoring Najia's attempt to answer. "The Doctor."

"I had a breakdown, because it's hard to realize your parents lied to you for twenty-years.” 

Words pour out of Yaz's mouth, propelled by her vivid memories of the day."And she talked me through it. She defended you. She brought you here, when I didn't even think of asking." 

Breathing heavily into the stunned quiet of the room, Yaz levels Hakim and Najia with a pointed look. 

"If it's some sort of evil plan to manipulate me, it's a rubbish one." She concludes, swallowing through an conflicting mix of resentment and gratefulness. 

Najia gasps, slowly stepping away from the young woman she struggles to reconcile with her memories of her daughter. "I don't..." She blows out a shaky sigh. "I don't know what to say." 

"You don't have to say anything." Yaz insists, wishing Najia's hesitation is a glimpse of open-mindedness. "Just... Have dinner with us. Tomorrow. We can talk, and you can see she's n..." 

"I can't." Najia pleads. "I can't forgive any of them, Yaz. They took you from us."

Yaz exhales through her nose slowly, realizing the conversation is stuck in a hopeless dead-end. She grits her teeth and makes her way back to the door. 

"I know I said I wasn't taking sides earlier." Yaz states, gnawing at her bottom lip as she wills away a tremor in her voice. "But don't force me to pick, mum." She glances over her shoulder, ignoring the mirroring water pooling in her mother's eyes. 

"I don't think you would like my choice much." Yaz warns, slipping out of the room. 

***************

Feet dragging against the carpeted floor, Yaz eases the door to the Lord-President's wing closed. She sighs and throws her head back against the hard surface. 

Seconds tick by as she stands still, narrowing her focus on the steady up-and-down rhythm of her own breathing. Making quick work of her boots, Yaz throws her leather jacket on the sofa. 

Her steps slow when, on her way to her own bedroom, she passes by the Doctor's opened door. She falters, tempted by the warm comfort she knows she would find at the woman's side. 

A poignant mix of bitter sadness and anger echoes in her chest, guiding Yaz's next action as she sticks her head through the doorway. 

Blinking to adjust to the dark atmosphere, she finds the Doctor sitting straight against the headboard, a notepad resting against her propped-up legs as she scribbles furiously, her tongue peeking from her teeth. 

Hidden by the dim candlelight brightening the room, Yaz leans against the wooden frame, a thoughtful smile on her lips as she watches the Doctor work. 

"Don't think too hard." She teases, eventually disturbing the lingering silence. The Time Lord startles, sending her pencil flying and earning a reluctant smile from Yaz. 

"Hello!" The blond recovers quickly, glancing away from her notes. "How was your party? Must have been fun, it's lat..." She trails off, taking in the way Yaz has her arms protectively wrapped around her middle, reddened pupils nailed to the ground. 

"Yaz? What happened?"

Inhaling sharply, Yaz frowns at the Doctor's sudden ability to pick up on non-verbal cues. "I'm fine." She shrugs. "Mum wanted to talk, and it didn't..." Another sigh. "Go well." 

"Ah." The Doctor takes her bottom lip between her teeth, struggling to gauge the other woman's mood.

There's a foreign shadow darkening the gaze facing her, leaving the blond at a loss. She holds back a first instinct to offer comfort, wondering how the suggestion would be received. 

The Doctor frowns, cursing her own social awkwardness. She usually relies on Yaz’s judgement to read sensitive or highly emotional situations, and she can't quiet the voice at the back of her mind telling her speaking would only make the problem worse. 

'What your mum thinks doesn't matter' doesn't exactly sound reassuring. 

"Don't worry about it." Yaz finally cuts through the uneasy silence, forcing a smile. "I'm fine. I'll tell you tomorrow." She pushes away from the door with an awkward wave. 

"Wait!" The Doctor exclaims, the tip of her tongue running nervously against her teeth when a pair of sad, brown eyes turn back in her direction. 

"Erm. Fancy a cuddle?" The Time Lord chances, ignoring the anxious sensation fluttering in her stomach. She has to try reaching out to Yaz, her wife is worth the risk of being turned down

The Doctor's eyebrows knit together as she wonders where this sudden fear of rejection comes from, and she almost misses the whispered reply. 

"God, yes." 

Stomach settled, the Doctor's hearts pounds steadily against her ribs when Yaz approaches the bed and foregoes her usual routine. 

The dark haired woman likes to stick to her own side of the mattress every time they sleep together, their clasped hands the only point of contact between them...

At least until they fall asleep. 

But even their unwavering habit of waking up tangled together failed to shake Yaz's routine, not that the Doctor ever questioned it. She's happy to respect the younger woman's apparent need for space. 

But Yaz can’t find the energy to stay away from the Doctor tonight, - her usual concern about not overcrowding the Time Lord fading with her open invitation to cuddle - not after the grueling talk with Najia. 

The vibrant image of her mum's brown irises blurred by tears floods Yaz’s mind. She closes her eyes, burying her nose against the Doctor’s collarbone, when slim arms loop around her waist and tug her closer. 

Yaz goes willingly, throwing a thigh over the Doctor’s legs as she melts against her side and narrows her attention to the comforting rhythm of gentle fingertips traveling up and down her spine. 

When the Doctor’s touch slips higher, combing through the messy chestnut curls pressed against her cheek, Yaz hums low in her throat. 

“The party was fine.” She speaks, after long minutes of companionable silence. “But they all want to meet you.”

“Your work mates?” The blond frowns. “Why?”

“You’re the Lord-President.” Yaz snickers, amused by the Doctor’s habit of forgetting her own title. “They’re curious, and I’m...” She ponders her next words in her head. 

“I’m your wife.” The weight behind the statement sinks in slowly, as Yaz fidgets with a loose thread on the sleeve of the Doctor’s sleep shirt. 

For the first time, she wonders if the official status of their relationship isn’t a self-made problem. Knowing if she’s the Doctor’s wife, or partner, or even best friend doesn’t matter. 

What matters is the genuine support Yaz finds in the Time Lord’s arms, even when it's her own family that's throwing off the precarious equilibrium of her new life. 

Najia's accusation emerges from the chaos of emotions swirling in her head, leaving Yaz gnawing at her bottom lip. 

Breathing in, she frowns and forces herself to consider the possibility of the Doctor manipulating her through telepathy...

Until the woman dips her head, brushing a casual kiss against Yaz's forehead with a content sigh. 

Fighting the affectionate smile twitching at the corner of her mouth, she feels the hint of doubt caused by Najia fade away. There's nothing fake about the sense of trust and safety that fills her heart, whenever they're together. 

Frown deepening in concentration, Yaz wonders when their relationship went from being an endless source of stress, to a safe haven in the midst of a stormy life she never expected. 

Nuzzling further against the Doctor's throat, she lets her thoughts drift to the steady rhythm of twin heartbeats under her ear. 

Yaz's brain conjures up months worth of memories, from tension-filled conversations, to a tentative truce that grew more solid over countless cups of tea prepared in the morning. 

She remembers the awkward, rigid arms that laced behind her back the first time they hugged, and how the Doctor's limbs progressively lost their initial stiffness, until the woman didn't even think before wrapping Yaz into a casual embrace whenever she feels like it. 

Images of shy touches and laughter shared over situations only funny to the two of them resurface from a distant part of her head. Yaz blinks away a few surprising tears stinging behind her eyelids, shaking off the last traces of confusion left by her parents' insinuations. 

The emotions bounding her to the Doctor are real, built upon the foundations of a brilliant friendship, and on the relief of finding a kindred spirit in someone who fell into her life. 

Yaz doesn't care if Time Lords can do telepathy or not, because those memories, those feelings are theirs. And they're _real_.

"Can I stay here?" The younger woman breaks the peaceful silence, her voice almost shy. "Tonight?"

"Course you can." 

The second kiss brushed against her hairline draws a happy sigh from Yaz. Her eye flutter closed as she narrows her racing thoughts to the regular breaths warming her forehead, slowly slipping into dreamless slumber.

***************

Days trickle by, as the Doctor struggles to navigate between Yaz's stubborn decision to ignore Najia until she apologizes, and the steward's cold demeanor whenever they're forced to interact. 

The Doctor doesn't blame the woman for the hostile contempt she shows her people. Time Lords snatched her daughter away, before forcing her into a marriage she didn't want. For all Najia knows, they're all monsters. 

With a long sigh, the Doctor runs a hand down her face. She would love a chance to prove her wrong - or at least to show Najia not all Time Lords are monster - if only for Yaz's peace of mind, who is - despite her multiple insurances of the contrary - not fine. 

There's only so much the Doctor can do to distract her from her family trouble. Her instinct to fix problems nagging at the back of her mind, she blows out another long breath and makes her way down a long set of stairs. 

She has no idea where to start to solve the tricky conflict, not when Najia offers a barely hidden glare whenever she enters a room. Her mouth would probably end up getting the Doctor into trouble again, if she tried to have a proper chat with the woman. 

Maybe she could convince Yaz to have a family dinner, considers the Doctor. Catching her bottom lip between her teeth, she wonders if she could get away with inviting Ryan and Graham as well. 

The Doctor slips through the heavy doors of her quarters, toeing her boots off. She turns and startles when she catches a pair of stern, dark eyes glued in her direction. 

"Yaz's mum." The Time Lord squeaks, gulping. 

"It's Najia." The woman corrects grimly, twisting her hands together. "I think we need to talk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I absolutely did just use the same ending on two consecutive updates. The resolution is going to be a little different though... 😈
> 
> Thank you to everyone who left kudos/comments on the last chapter! You’re all amazing!!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone reading, I appreciate all the comments/kudos so much! Here's the next chapter, I’m a little nervous about this one, but I hope everyone enjoys... 😬

Najia steels herself and takes a seat on the armchair opposite the sofa. 

"Is Yaz here?" The Doctor hesitates, padding deeper into the room. "She should be, if it's personal. Which, giving how you're waiting for me in our front room, it probably is." 

"It's you I want to talk to." She states, somberly. "Sit, I made tea."

"Me." The Doctor repeats, the hint of nervousness turning Najia’s voice shaky settling her nerves. "Hold on, is this a 'You better treat Yaz well' conversation? Because Sonya already threatened me at least three times, and I promise I got the mess..."

"Sit, and I'll tell you what it's about." 

Running restless fingers through tousled blond hair, she carefully circles Najia's chair, plopping on the couch and reaching for the cup of tea left on the table. The Doctor takes a slow sip, leveling the other woman with a carefully neutral stare, as she waits. 

Najia gulps, wiping clammy palms against her trousers. "I don't know anything about this place. I don't know your people, and I don't know you." She starts. 

"What I do know, is that my daughter left home as an independent, stubborn woman who would never allow anyone to control her life. And I found her here, willing to take your side over her own family. Willing to blindly defend you, even if you're the reason she had to leave in the first place." 

"Yaz is still independent, and stubborn, and strong. Bravest person I know. But maybe she changed, in the last months." The Doctor counters, tongue running against her bottom lip. " That happens, you know. It doesn't mean I'm controlling her." She denies, nose scrunched at the suggestion. 

"How do I know you're not?" Najia presses, her voice breaking on the last word. She inhales sharply, rubbing her hands together. "How do I know it wasn't you, who changed her? Yaz always had a need to help people, maybe you took advan..." 

The Doctor frowns, her attention slowly slipping from Najia's speech. She's missing something - something obvious - that tickles at the back of her mind. Closing her eyes, she combs through the rapid flux of information permanently processing in the background of her head. 

The Time Lord registers the sound of birds chirping through the window, the feel of a warm mug under her fingertips, the smell of the dying fire with its last log crackling away. 

Digging deeper, she catches the faint murmur of blood traveling through both hers and Najia's bodies, the subtle flashes of movement in the air as they breathe, the perpetual golden strands of energy as time ebbs and flows around them. 

There's an odd rhythm to the Doctor's thoughts, a strange, underlining noise that doesn't fit with the usual cogs turning in her brain. 

Her heartbeats. 

Her racing heartbeats pounding violently against her temples. 

The Doctor glances down to her hands, surprised to see her own trembling fingers struggling to hold the cup steady. She frowns in confusion until a wave of sharp pain explodes through her chest, forcing her to grit her teeth together. 

"Najia." She blinks, tone much calmer than she feels. "Any idea what's happening to me?"

***************

Yaz ducks under Ryan's fist, unable to resist the temptation to sweep his feet from under his body, as she slides passed him. He hits the ground with a loud groan and lays on his back, grimacing. 

They worked their way up to proper sparring over the last few months, despite the man's constant struggle with dyspraxia that forced Yaz to slow her usual style. The switch to a more cerebral approach to fighting does wonder, both for Yaz's skills, and for Ryan's self-confidence. 

Giving up the speed advantage granted by her lightning-quick footwork and one-two punches compelled Yaz to study her opponent's body language and try to predict his next move. 

Which doesn't mean she's taking it easy on Ryan. Most of their encounters still end with her friend laying on his back or complaining of bruises and sore muscles. His protests turn less frequent over time, and they both notice a stark improvement of his sparring abilities. 

But between Yaz's stressful day at work and the constant worry about her mum, holding back on her aggressive style is harder today. Almost a week passed since the fateful discussion in Hakim and Najia's room, with the older woman's attitude showing no sign of improvement. 

After months spent missing them, ignoring her family - except Sonya - grows harder every day, the effort leaving Yaz with a heavy weight on her shoulders. 

Distracted by her own thoughts, Yaz barely notices the fingers waving in front of her eyes. She blinks, attention returning to Ryan's concerned gaze. 

"Okay, Yaz?" He wonders gently, earning a casual nod. "Are you sure? You look like you're not really here." The dark haired woman sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose as her eyelids flutter shut. 

Ryan pauses, eager to help his friend. "Is it your mum again?" 

Yaz frowns. She never discussed the matter with anyone other than the Doctor, determined to keep their family trouble away from Time Lords' keen interest in gossip. "How do you know about that?"

"Sonya told me." 

Yaz raises a dubious eyebrow. "You're spending a lot of time with my sister." She states, a hint of genuine curiosity in her voice. 

"I'm not." Ryan denies, fighting the flush warming his cheeks. 

She hums, before chancing a teasing quip. "I saw you two together last night."

"What?" Ryan startles. "How could you, we didn't even leave the l..." He trails off, eyes growing wide as he realizes his mistake. 

"So, you were together." Yaz points out, triumphant. "Oh my god, are you dating my _sister_? I really thought you'd have m..." 

The rest of the playful comment lingers on the tip of Yaz's tongue, forgotten when her stomach suddenly drops. 

She winces, frowning in confusion as her heartbeat speeds up until the noise echoes relentlessly between her ribs. The chaotic rhythm leaves Yaz out of breath, bending at the waist with her hands on her knees. 

Ryan freezes, slowly approaching his friend. 

"Yaz?" 

"I don't...." She starts, biting her lip when the odd sensation in her chest repeats, weakening her legs. "Ryan, what's happening?" 

He hesitates, raising a tentative hand to touch her shoulder. "What's wrong?" 

"I don't know." She rubs sweaty palms against her trousers, struggling to draw air into her lungs. "I can't breathe properly, and my heart is going so fast."

"Oh." He musters a comforting smile, crouching to meet her gaze. "I think you're having a panic attack. It's all right, just stay ca..."

"I'm not." She cuts off, adamantly shaking her head. "I used to have them a lot, and they never..." 

With a loud gasp, Yaz grips her left arm. "Wasn't like that, Ry. It always started in my head, with my thoughts going mad. I wasn't thinking of anything bad, bef..."

"Why are you holding your arm?" He cuts off sharply. 

"I don't know, it hurts." Yaz's distracted reply deepens Ryan's frown, the younger woman too preoccupied by her own out-of-control breathing to notice. "What's happening? I'm too young to have a heart atta..."

"Let me see." 

"What?" 

"Your arm." Ryan repeats, a hint of urgency coloring his voice. Before Yaz understands what's happening, he reaches for her jumper-covered left wrist. 

Hastily rolling up the sleeve, Ryan springs to his feet after a quick glance at her arm. He rushes to his forgotten work gear, clumsily going through the pockets of his jacket until he finds the radio guards use to communicate around the Citadel. 

"Ryan Sinclair." He identifies himself, thumb pressed to the side of the device as he broadcasts to every soldier patrolling the city. "Has anyone seen the Doctor?" 

Seconds tick by, the chorus of negative responses worsening the growing hunch at the back of his head. Teeth digging into her bottom lip, he switches the radio back on. "Well, find her." He barks, with self-insurance he didn't know he had. "Now." 

"Ryan." His name drags his attention back to Yaz, now down on her knees with a hand clutched around the glowing bracelet circling her wrist. "Explain."

Rushing back to his friend, he cups her elbow and helps her back to her feet. "Don't you know what that's for?" Ryan frowns, confused. 

"If I knew, I wouldn't ask." Yaz snaps, blinking through another rush of pure panic flooding her head. "I'm so scared, what's happening?" 

"Wedding bracelets harvest the psychic link between two married Time Lords." He explains, softening his voice. 

"What?" Yaz's eyebrows knit together. "I'm not a Time Lord. What are you saying?" She prompts and straightens her back. 

"I know that." Ryan hesitates. "I don't know how it works, with you being human. But... Yaz, I don't think it's your panic you're feeling."

***************

Najia blinks through shocked realization from her armchair, as she watches the Doctor press a hand against her collarbone. 

"I..." She starts, gasping. "That's not what... It's not supposed to hurt." The older woman adds, the low murmur barely reaching the blond's ears. 

"What?" The Doctor snaps, teeth clenched together. "What's not supposed to hurt? Because it really does." 

"I... She..." Najia stumbles, shaking her head. "I put aspirin in your tea. But I made sure... You're supposed to fall asle..." 

The stream of words morphs into background noise, a lone word bouncing around the Doctor's brain. 

Aspirin. 

"Najia." Gathering her energy, the Time Lord straightens her back and meets a lost, brown gaze. "I know you didn't mean to, but it's g..." 

The rest of the sentence is lost to another gasp of pain that leaves the Doctor struggling to ignore the signs of her body shutting down. 

Squeezing clammy palms against a cushion, the Doctor swallows through a burning sensation trailing down her spine. "I need chocolate. Now." 

Najia inhales sharply, steeling herself as a heavy silence sneaks into every crack of the room. 

The Doctor's frown deepens in slow understanding. "You're not going to help, are you?" 

The other woman doesn't budge, rooted to her spot with her eyes stubbornly glued to the floor. 

The Doctor gulps, pushing off the sofa. _It's fine_ , she tells herself. _I don’t need anyone to find chocolate in my own kitch..._

Another burst of burning heat sweeps her legs from under her weight, and she falls to her knees between the couch and the coffee table. She exhales through her nose, raising a wobbly gaze back to Najia. 

"I know you're not a killer." The Doctor tries again, a pleading, panicked edge to the words. 

The dark haired woman flinches at the statement, reminding herself of what brought her to this moment. She's fighting to give her eldest daughter a chance at a real future, a future where Yaz is free, and doesn't have to be a pawn in a twisted power-struggle between Time Lords. 

"Najia." 

Caught off-guard by the suddenly returned steadiness in the Doctor's voice, the older woman looks up and dives head-first into glistening hazel eyes. 

She swallows painfully, forcing her mind to build pictures of Yaz's childhood. She was a happy baby, funny, curious, and full of endless energy that brightened every room of their house. 

Her daughter will be happy again, Najia swears. She'll make sure of it, no matter the repercussions on her own life. 

"I'm going to die." 

The quiet statement rattles Najia's resolve for a second, her shoulders slumping as the dark reality of taking another person's life makes her blood run cold. 

The poison was supposed to send the Doctor to sleep, before stopping her hearts. The poignant image of pain twisting her features is almost enough to make her reconsider her plan. 

Almost. 

"I'm sorry." She offers, tipping her head down. 

The Doctor closes her eyes, flinging her arms over the table to drag herself up in a last effort. The movement leaves her standing, if out of breath, and she tries to ignore the drips of sweat sliding down her neck. 

Her first step forwards takes her back to the ground with a mumbled huff of pain. The Doctor blinks as she lays on her back, eyes scanning through the room. The panicked understanding that there’s no way out of her predicament drops in her stomach. 

The kitchen corner is too far, Najia won't help, and the poison coursing through her veins leaves agonizing heat in its trail, despite the thunderous protest of her heartbeats. 

Forcing a deep breath into her lungs, the blond covers her face with her palms. Short-lived flashes of sadness, anger and fear cloud her thoughts, before leaving place to an eerie, stunning sense of calm. 

The Doctor's muscles uncoil, as she acknowledges the risk associated to her title. She always knew being the Lord-President could cause her death, even if she never expected Najia to be the one carrying the sentence. 

It seems fitting, in a way, to have Yaz's mum be th...

Yaz. 

Eyes growing wide, the Doctor forces herself in a half-sitting position. The simple shift leaves her gasping for breath, but she scrambles to her knees, inching herself closer to the kitchen cabinets. 

She can only imagine Yaz's reaction, if she comes home to find Najia sitting with the Doctor's body. The vivid image of the younger woman on the day of her breakdown about her family floods through her brain, fueling her efforts. 

Can't have a heart-broken Yaz, the Doctor decides, the renewed energy driving her halfway through the front room. 

Until the startling noise of a door slamming opened tips her back to the ground.

***************

"We have to find the Doctor." Yaz pleads, gripping Ryan's nearest shoulder. 

"I know." He raises his hands in what he hopes is a comforting gesture. "Think, Yaz. Where could she be?" 

"Home. In a High Council meeting. At the repair shop." She lists, leveling him with a helpless stare. 

Ryan freezes, pulled off-balance by the open fear in his friend's pupils. "Breathe, Yaz." He gulps and shoves aside his own emotions. "We'll find her, but you need to remember if she told you anything specific, before you left this morning." 

"Nothing." Yaz's voice swells. "It was a normal morning. I complained about two of our new students..." She squeezes her eyes shut, digging through her memory. 

"She asked if I wanted to deal with angry Time Lords intea..." Cutting herself off, Yaz's fingers tightens into Ryan's shirt. "Angry Time Lords. She's not at the repair shop." 

"One option down." Ryan encourages, nodding to himself. "We'll start with the High Council meeting room, and work our way down the towe..." 

Yaz interrupts. "You go. I'm checking our quarters."

"What?" He frowns. "Yaz, no. I'm not leaving you. We don't know what's happening to her, what if you're in danger too?" Softening his voice, he insists. "The Doc will never forgive me, if you need me and I'm not th..." 

"And I'll never forgive myself, if something happens to her." Yaz cuts off, bouncing on the tip of her boots. 

Ryan sighs. "Every guard in the Citadel is looking for her. Don't you think they'll start with the Lord-President's wing?" 

"It's the middle of the day, she has no reason to be there. And I don't trust them, I trust you and I." She counters. 

"Ryan, please." Yaz breathes out through a shaky smile, tears stinging in her eyes. "I love that woman. And I don't think she knows, and I swear, if she dies before I can see her stupid smirk after I tell her, I don't kn..."

"Okay." Ryan interrupts, aware of time slipping though their fingers. "Okay. I'm going up that tower, you go home. And you wait for me there, if you can't find the Doctor. We'll think of a new plan." 

They nod to each other, dashing in opposite direction with the same urgency guiding their strides.

***************

Yaz slides to a stop, boots slipping against the marble floor as she grips the door handle. She shoves it forwards, ignoring the painful burn running from her left wrist to her bicep. 

Najia's familiar form catches her eyes first, the woman rooted in an armchair in a corner of the room. 

"Mum?" Yaz rushes to her mother, gripping her hand. "Mum, have you seen the Doc..." 

A pained gasp cuts off the question, drawing Yaz's attention to the blond struggling to pull herself up from the ground. 

"Doctor!" She springs to her feet, crouching at the Time Lord's side. "What happened to you?" Yaz presses, a hint of panic seeping through her voice when she notices the woman's trembling hands and pale face, her chest rattling with the effort to pull oxygen into her lungs. 

"Aspirin." The Doctor chokes out, fingers clenching around Yaz's forearm. "Can't breathe." 

"I'm here, it's okay." Yaz whispers, making a mental note of the allergy in the background of her mind. She glances back to Najia, doing her best to stay calm as she cups the side of the Doctor's neck and rubs up and down a clammy patch of skin. 

"Go get Ryan." She instructs firmly. "He should be in the High Council tower." 

The older woman freezes, wringing her hands together as she refuses to allow the fear of Yaz's reaction to change her course of action. The events are unraveling much faster than she anticipated, but Najia always knew she would have to face her daughter and justify her actions. 

Her thin hope that the confrontation could wait after the Doctor's death - when the Time Lord’s mental grip on Yaz would be fading away - is crushed by the intense gaze snapped in her direction. 

"Mum?" Yaz repeats, frowning when the dark pupils facing her glaze over and fill with tears. "What's wrong, why are you cr..." 

"Chocolate." The Doctor interrupts and forces her shaky fingers to close around Yaz's wrist, tugging insistently. "Get me..." The blond's teeth grit together under a new flare of pain that spreads between her hearts. "Yaz." 

Fearful chestnut eyes travel back down, meeting the Doctor's steadily. 

"Okay." Yaz nods, gentle hands framing the Time Lord's cheeks. "What do you need?" 

The corner of the Doctor's mouth twitch in a reflex smile. "Aspirin is a poison. F'r us." She slurs, latching onto the safe familiarity of Yaz's presence. She knows the other woman is scared, but there's a soothing edge coloring her voice that makes her own hearts slow a touch. "Need chocolate." 

Springing to her feet, Yaz dashes to the kitchen. She yanks a cabinet opened, growing more frustrated with every empty cupboard she discovers. 

"Come on." She mutters to herself, running a hand through her hair as she finds the kitchen overflowing with every sort of food. 

Except chocolate.

She closes her eyes, kick-starting the rational part of her brain into action. The slowing, loud sound of the Doctor's breathing registers in a corner of her brain, turning her legs wobbly. "Come on." Yaz repeats. 

The last cabinet falls opened, with its shelves empty. Firmly battling a fresh wave of panic, Yaz forces herself to think through the situation. Frowning, she considers sprinting to the castle's kitchen to fetch the sugary treat. 

Another pained gasp makes the younger woman falter and turn back to the living space, where she sees the Time Lord's watchful eyes tracking her movements. 

"Kitchen?" Yaz chances, thumb sticking out to point towards the entrance. 

"No time." The Doctor rebuts, chest heaving. "Don't go." 

The begging tone brings Yaz to a sudden stop, stomach dropping. A fuzzy instinct draws her back to the front room, kneeling near the couch. She holds a fluttering hazel gaze, fingers clutched in the Doctor's dark blue jumper. 

"Listen." Yaz implores, swallowing through a panicked knot in her throat. "You're not going to die. I won't let that happen, you just need to trust me." 

"I do." The Doctor musters up a weak smile, between two painfully noisy breaths. "But I'm scared."

A shiver runs down Yaz's spine, triggering a flare of protectiveness. She dips her head and brushes a lingering kiss to the Doctor's forehead. "I know." 

_Think._ Yaz tells herself, forcing another deep breath into her lungs. 

_You can sort this out._ Her surprisingly calm inner voice continues, fueling her determination. _You live with a sugar addict. There's no way the Doctor doesn't have a stash of chocolate tucked away somew..._

Yaz snaps her fingers and rushes to the other woman's bedroom, almost falling headfirst into her closet. After a few seconds of awkward fumbling, she retrieves what she's searching for, the Doctor's trademark grey coat. 

Sparing a grumbling thought for the garment's endless compartments, Yaz's hands slip from one pocket to the other. When she hits a bag of crinkling plastic, she lets out a triumphant noise at the sight of a familiar, golden wrapping. 

Throwing the plastic layer to the side, Yaz dashes back to the front room. She plops down on the ground, ignoring the violent squeeze of her heart when she settles at the side of a passed out Time Lord. 

Yaz's free hand pats against the Doctor's cheek, failing to bring her back to consciousness. "Come on, sweetheart." She murmus, thumb caressing pale skin. "You need to wake up." 

The lack of reaction tightens Yaz's throat. "Doc, please. Just for a minute, you can sleep all you want after you eat this." She leans their foreheads together, finding a hint of comfort when a faint whisper of air warms her chin. "And it's chocolate. You love chocolate." 

A stretching silence later, Yaz grows desperate and slips her thumb between the Doctor's parted lips, pulling down gently until her jaw falls opened. The narrow space allows Yaz to nudge the piece of chocolate in her mouth. 

She holds her breath, hopeful. Nothing happens for another few seconds, until the Doctor's throat bobbles, and a quiet gasp lands loudly into the room. Grinning, the younger woman presses her lips to the tip of the blond's nose. 

"Brilliant." Yaz whispers, ignoring the tearful wave of relief crashing through her, as she watches the chaotic up-and-down motions of the Doctor's chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much of a cliffhanger this week, because I'm not sure when the next chapter will be up! I'm trying to adjust to working from home, and it's not as easy as I thought.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An extra-long chapter today, because I just didn’t want to cut that part of the story short. The next one won’t be that long, and should be out early next week.

Minutes creep by in the tense, heavy silence broken only by the comforting background noise of the fire. 

Yaz swallows and gently tips the Doctor's head to the side, seeking her pulse. The shallow four-time rhythm thrumming under her fingertips only deepens her confusion. 

Faint heartbeats are better than no heartbeats, she supposes, but shouldn't the Doctor be awake? Her clammy skin and pale features makes Yaz's hands shake, as she wonders quietly if she wasn't too late. 

Maybe she took too much time to find the antidote, or to find the Time Lord once Ryan understood what was happening. What if her tardiness kills t...

With a trembling intake of breath, Yaz wills her spiraling thoughts still. She brushes away a lone tear that was drying on the Doctor's cheek, dipping her head. 

"Come on, you can't die." She whispers, lips pressed against the woman's earlobe. 

"Not now. There's so much I don't know about you, and..." Yaz sniffles. "So many questions I never had time to ask. I want more time with you, Doc." 

The dark haired woman continues, soothed by the familiar - if one-sided - conversation. "And I have things to tell you too..." Yaz hesitates. "I want to set my boss and Graham up. You can help." She smiles, picturing the Doctor's genuine enthusiasm and endless suggestions. 

"She'd be good for him, keep him on his toes. Like y..." When her voice breaks, Yaz settles more comfortably on the ground and clasps her arms around the Doctor's waist to drag her closer. 

Shifting until the Time Lord is laying between her legs, propped up against her chest with a blond head falling in the warm space between Yaz's neck and shoulder, she picks up her sentence. 

"Like you do with me. I love that about you." Yaz says, narrowing her focus to the regular sensation of air puffing against her throat.

"There are a lot of things I love about you." She adds, gnawing at her bottom lip. "I'm not talking about them now, because this isn't me saying goodbye. I'm not letting you go, you hear me? You're not allowed to die." 

Yaz blinks through the tears blurring her vision, resting her cheek against pale hair as her voice drops to a whisper. "You're going to wake up, and I'll tell you that Ryan is probably dating my sister, and you'll compl..."

"What?" 

Yaz's head snaps up, her gaze finding reddened, emerald irises barely visible through cracked eyelids. Her breath catches in her throat, and a faint gasp escapes her parted lips. 

"Really thought - okay, that hurts - your sister had better taste." The Doctor mumbles again, her short-lived attempt to sit up stopped by a groan of pain. She ignores her screaming, sore muscles and settles back against Yaz with a crooked smile. 

If she can't get up, there's nowhere else the Doctor wants to be. Yaz's arms feel warm, and comfortable, and every cell in her body doesn't seem like they're about to burst into flames anymore. 

Yaz freezes, heart pounding against her ribs when she feels the other woman move. She blinks, fighting the stream of tears she knows is trickling down her face. 

The thundering heartbeat draws the Time Lord's head to the side, her smile spreading when she meets shining chocolate eyes. "Hello." 

"Hi." Yaz whispers back with a mirroring grin. She catches the Doctor's flailing hand - a poor attempt to brush away Yaz's tears - and laces their fingers together to bring a sweaty palm to her lips. 

"I should have known gossip would bring you back from the dead." Yaz sniffles, peppering kisses along the Doctor's wrist. 

"Love gossip, me." She pauses and remembers burning pain burnt in her memory - her last conscious thought before passing out -, fighting a fresh wave of unsettling fear. "And I didn't want to go." 

Yaz closes her eyes at the trembling edge in the Doctor's voice. "I know you didn't." She nuzzles against blond hair, comforted by the familiar scent of coconut shampoo. "You're still here, yeah?" 

The Doctor musters a smile, reaching behind her to grip into Yaz's shirt. "Thanks to you." 

With a sharp intake of breath, Yaz straightens her back. "Don't thank me for saving your life." She denies, swallowing through a tight knot in her throat. "I was almost too late." 

She would have been, silently acknowledges Yaz, without Ryan's quick thinking. Her barely-settled heartbeat races again, an irrational feeling of guilt swirling in her stomach. 

"Hey."

Yaz blinks, forcing herself to tip her head down and meet a steady hazel gaze. 

"You weren't too late. Don't think about it." Sniffling, the Doctor allows the smile twitching at the corner of her lips. "You had perfect timing. Love a good entrance, Yaz." 

The quip earns the blond a watery chuckle, as Yaz rests their foreheads together and closes her eyes. She relishes in the familiar scent of honey and Earl grey tea that seems to cling to the Doctor's skin, the regular rhythm of her breathing warming her lips. 

"I'm sorry."

Najia's quiet voice interrupts the stretching silence, as she abruptly reminds both women of her presence. She clears her throat, eyes glued to the ground as she desperately struggles to ignore the heavy burden of regret plummeting in her stomach. 

There's nothing manipulative in the way Yaz is clutching her wife, or in the tears running down both of their faces. 

"I didn't know." Najia adds, shoving away the inner voice at the back of her mind screaming that it’s her own actions that might wreck her relationship with her daughter, not the Doctor's. 

"How can you say that?" Yaz growls, before the Doctor can speak through the messy, conflicting emotions rushing through her brain. "I told you I was happy. I t..."

Yaz stops herself when her voice breaks under the combined weight of betrayal and anger. "You didn't trust me. You didn't even believe what I said." 

"I never thought you were lying." The older woman tries to defend herself, pleading. "I thought she brainwashed you. What was I supposed to do?" 

"Talk to me!" Yaz snaps, voice swelling. She meets Najia's genuinely apologetic eyes with a determined glare. 

Before the harsh words bubbling in the younger woman's brain can spill from her lips, she feels the Doctor's hand bunch in her shirt near her collarbone. The sensation draws her head down, and seconds tick by as they hold a silent stare, until Yaz nods and swallows through the thick fury burning in her chest. 

"Wasn't you idea, was it?" The Doctor takes over the conversation, a disheartened gaze finding Najia's. The woman visibly startles, caught off-guard. 

"I don't know what you me..."

"You're not a murderer, Najia. Trust me, grew up with loads of them." She quips. "And how could you know?" 

The Doctor sighs, bracing herself. She has a hunch about what's coming, but part of her needs a verbal confirmation. "There's no book that explains how to poison Time Lords, they were destroyed a long time ago. Someone told you." 

Najia gulps, suddenly struggling to draw air into her lungs. "Yes." She confirms, in a low murmur. 

"Who, mum?" Yaz presses, arms tightening around the Doctor with a fierce wave of protectiveness. 

Najia's jaw clicks shut, as she remembers what's at stake for the rest of her family. 

"Tell us." Yaz snaps, her already low reserve of patience running thin. 

"She can't." 

Yaz frowns when the Doctor justifies her mother's reticence, glancing down as she combs through messy blond hair. "Why not?" 

"Because it would put the rest of your family in danger." The Time Lord chances, stomach dropping when she sees Najia's gaze lower to the floor. "Missy knows how to cover her tracks." 

The older woman's muted gasp is all the confirmation the Doctor needs, and she sighs, a deep-rooted exhaustion settling in her bones. 

"Don't..." Najia blows out a long breath, eyes growing wet. "Please. She will kill Sonya." 

"Not if I get to her first." Yaz growls, steel resolve seeping through her voice and drawing a hint of a flinch from the Doctor. 

"You leave Missy to me." The blond shakes her head. "It's personal, me and her." 

Yaz's frown deepens. "Not if she tries to kill you, it's not." 

" _Especially_ when she tries to kill me." The Doctor counters, eyebrows raised in warning. 

"Did you say 'when' she tries to kill you? How many times did th..." Yaz repeats, stunned. 

Before she can word her indignation, the door bursts opened to reveal Ryan's tall frame heaving with loud breaths. 

Wild eyes scanning through the room, he freezes when he finds Yaz holding the Doctor on the ground, her features scowled unhappily. Noticing Najia's standing in front of them, Ryan sticks his head back into the hallway to alert his fellow guards. "In here!" 

"Is everything all right? What happened?" He asks frantically, approaching the two women as a growing crowd fills the doorway. 

The Doctor winces, watching her hope of keeping the situation quiet dwindle with every second. 

"My mum tried to kill the Doctor." Yaz fills him in, and the Doctor sighs, giving up on her initial plan. 

Ryan's jaw slacks opened. He steps forwards and hesitantly crouches at her side. "Are you okay?" He asks, gently. 

"Fine." The Doctor waves away the concern, options running at the back of her mind. 

Rumors spread fast through the Citadel, and there's no way an assassination attempt on the Lord-President's life will make exception, especially not with the dozen of soldiers watching the action. She doesn't want to send Najia to prison - she's Yaz's mum - but Missy's constant threat forces her to isolate the woman as much as poss...

An awkward hand patting on her shoulder snaps the Doctor out of her thoughts. "Really, Ryan." She assures, touched. "Don't worry about me." 

He lowers his voice, glancing up to find Yaz's anxious eyes glued to the Doctor's face. "I'm not the one you should be telling that to." Ryan teases, watching the Time Lord follow his gaze. 

"We're married." The Doctor fires back, winking. "Comes with free worrying privileges." 

Ryan chokes out a laugh, pushing himself up. "Whatever you say, Doc." 

Turning his attention back to Najia, he frowns. He can only imagine the emotions running through Yaz's head. "You know where to find me." He adds quietly, earning a distracted nod as sole reply. 

"What do we do?" Ryan wonders, glancing back to the older woman. 

"Bring her back to her room." The Doctor's eyes flicker between Najia and the security team slowly surrounding her. "Can I trust you to stay there?" 

Najia nods, a tired, wary exhaustion etched on her features in a way that echoes through the Doctor's head. 

"One of you should guard the door." She adds, sighing. "Don't let anyone that's not Hakim or Sonya inside." 

"Am I..." Najia frowns, uncertain. "Can I leave?" 

"Not alone." The Doctor responds, an apologetic waver in her voice. 

"I'm a prisoner then." She states, brows furrowed deeper. 

"Yes." Yaz confirms, coldly. 

"For now." The Doctor tempers. "I need a few minutes to..." She winces, unhappy with the burden of tension weighing on her shoulders. "Think." 

"Minutes." Yaz repeats, incredulous. "If you think I'm letting you do anything before next week, you don't und..."

"All right, come on mates." Ryan interrupts, shoving his coworkers towards the door. "Back to work. Najia, I'll get you home."

***************

Watching the group leave, Yaz and the Doctor lay on the floor, shaken by the recent turn of event. 

Tipping her head back, the younger woman closes her eyes and narrows her attention to the Doctor's warm presence in her arms. The simple, regular movement of her breathing makes tears spill from her eyes, as the blond nuzzles closer against her neck. 

The deafening noise of water sliding down Yaz's cheeks is caught by the Time Lord’s perceptive hearing. "Are you okay?" 

"Am I..." Yaz starts, raising her head from the sofa to meet a confused hazel gaze. "I'm not the one who almost di..." The word sticks to the roof of her mouth, until the Doctor cups her cheek with a shaky hand, thumb rubbing fresh tears away. 

"You're the one who did the saving. That's the hard part." 

Yaz reluctantly concedes the point, swallowing through a painful knot in her throat. "I feel like I just ran a marathon." She frowns, growing aware of the drying sweat soaking her t-shirt. "Probably smell like it too, sorry." 

"S'fine." The Doctor slurs, squeezing the hands laced around her waist. "Smells like you." 

Yaz lets out a quiet chuckle, brushing her lips against tousled blond hair. "How do you feel?" She prods gently. 

"Achey. And tired." The Doctor blinks, sighing. "I'm so tired." 

The exhaustion seeping through her voice tugs at Yaz's heart strings, as nonsensical reassurances tumble from her lips. The whispered words seem to help, leaving her smiling with the tension draining out of the Doctor's back. 

"All right, how about a shower? Then you can sleep until tomorrow, if you want." Yaz pauses, considering her own suggestion. "Or a bath? It might help with the achey part." 

"Hm, love baths." The Doctor murmurs absentmindedly, with a vague nod. 

"Can you stand?" She asks, loosening the arms wrapped around the other woman. 

The Doctor gives another, firmer nod and shifts forwards. Pulling herself up, she stands on weakened legs and looks back down to see Yaz observing her from the ground, frowning in concern. 

"I'm fine." She assures, holding her arms up. "See?" 

The abrupt movement tips her fragile balance over, the sudden grip of Yaz's hands on her hips the only force holding her up. 

"Oops." The Doctor blinks, scrunching her nose. 

"You're lucky you're cute." She sighs, exasperated.

"You've got to stop saying that." The Time Lord huffs, sagging against Yaz's side. "You'll ruin my reputation."

Yaz rolls her eyes, moving her hands around the Doctor's shoulders. "Come on. Bathroom." She says, offering gentle support as they make their way to the en-suite adjourning the blond's bedroom. 

***************

Yaz uses her foot to push the door opened, leaning against the frame under the weight of the Doctor's body. Squinting at the dark room, she seeks out the light switch, feeling the arm thrown over her shoulders reach for the opposite wall. 

"Here." The Doctor offers, with a casual flicker of her wrist. "It's better with light."

"What's bet..." Yaz's question sticks in her throat, when she turns her head to take in the room. "Doctor?" 

"Hm?"

"Why is your bathroom bigger than our kitchen?" 

"I don't know." The Time Lord snickers, slipping from Yaz's grip to stumble her way to the tub. She sits on the side, crossing her legs at the ankles as she turns to face the other woman. 

"Don't even use the bath. Showers are quicker." With a head tilt towards the rain shower occupying the other side of the broad space, the Doctor cautiously forces a deep breath into her lungs, flinching when her ribs scream in protest. 

Sparing a thought for her modest childhood house - quickly shoved away, since it comes with flashes of Najia's presence and bursts of poignant emotions Yaz isn't ready to comb through just yet - she pads deeper into the room. 

A shelf of hair products, soaps and folded, fluffy towels catches Yaz's eyes, distracting her from unwelcome memories. She spots a bottle of clear liquid sparkling in shades of blues, yellows and reds. 

"What's this?" Yaz wonders, grasping the vial curiously. 

"No idea." The Doctor reaches forwards, pops the lid and sniffs the content. The mix of chemicals registering in her brain comes with a clean, pleasant taste in her mouth, and she deems the sensation safe. 

Nodding to herself, the Doctor bends at the waist to reach the golden faucet. The angle pulls at her ribs, leaving her flinching with a wave of residual soreness that doesn't escape Yaz's watchful gaze. 

"I can do it." She steps in, ignoring the mumbled protest to wrap her fingers around cold metal until water pours from the tap. Yaz settles back on her knees, one hand lingering on the Doctor's thigh as the woman adds a hefty amount of mysterious liquid into the tub. 

"You don't even know what that is." Yaz points out. "Did you need to p..."

"Bubble bath!" The Doctor interrupts, grinning. "See? Now I know what it is." 

Yaz tilts her head and glances into the water to see bubbles sparkle to life. "Rainbow bubble bath." She corrects with a chuckle. "Fitting."

"You can never have too much rainbows, Yaz." The Doctor fires back with a teasing, raised eyebrow. 

The quip misses the Time Lord's distinctive mix of humor and sheepishness, drawing Yaz's attention to the unusual pale color still clinging to her cheeks. She musters a smile, raising a hand to brush back stray blond hair falling over hazel eyes. 

Shoving away the wave of guilt that drops into her stomach, Yaz kicks the practical part of her brain into action. "Get up." She instructs, with a gentle pat on the other woman’s knee. 

The Doctor pushes herself away from the tub, stumbling on still shaky legs until Yaz grips her upper arms. 

"Are you sure you're okay? Maybe you should get checked out." She suggests, with a deepening frown.

"I'm fine." The Doctor denies, nose scrunched. "Nothing a bath and a few hours of sleep won't fix." She steps back, slipping her fingers under bright braces. Pulling down the first one, she pauses, blinking away a wave of dizziness. 

"All right." Yaz raises her hands, shuffling closer. She settles a palm on the Doctor's hip, the other gently tugging against the yellow fabric still hung around her shoulders. "How about you let me help?" 

"Help?" 

"With... Hum..." Yaz starts clumsily, raising her chin towards the tub. "To get you out of those clothes."

The Doctor stays quiet, blinking. 

"Only if you need help. You looked like you were about to pass out again for a second." 

"Yeah." The Doctor confirms, reluctant. "Still a bit..." She sighs. "Wobbly." 

The younger woman nods to herself, ignoring the sudden dry feeling at the back of her throat. She kneels and loosens the laces of sturdy brown boots before the Doctor toes them off, fingers clutched into Yaz's jacket. 

Raising back to her feet, Yaz slides down the Doctor's leftover brace and allows her fingers to bunch into the thin fabric at the bottom of a royal blue jumper. With slow, careful movements, she tugs it over the Time Lord's head, leaving her in a white undershirt and trousers. 

"Not how I imagined this." The Doctor mutters under her breath, catching Yaz's attention. 

"Imagined... What?" She prompts, fighting a smirk twitching at the corner of her lips. "Me taking off your clothes?" 

"Erm..." Green-brown pupils grow wide. "Yes?" The Doctor confirms, ignoring the nervous flutter in her stomach. That thought was supposed to stay in her head, why did her mouth have t...

"And did you imagine that often?" Yaz pushes, amused by the flustered hesitation. 

The Doctor frowns, intrigued by the gentle teasing. "Would it be okay? If I did?" 

Yaz slips her touch from the Doctor's neck to her cheeks, framing her face with soft hands. 

"It would be very okay." She assures, happy to see the tension ease from anxious features. Tilting her head up, she leans in to take the Doctor's lips between her own. 

Surprised when the other woman melts against her, Yaz slides one of her hand down to wrap around her lower back in support. The faint tremble she can feel through the thin material of the Doctor's undershirt tugs at her heart, and she moves to squeeze her into a hug. 

A pained gasp is muffled by the contact between their lips, but the sound is enough to loosen Yaz's embrace immediately. She shuffles her weight to the heels of her sock-clad feet, breathless. 

"What?" Yaz frowns. 

"Nothing. I'm f..."

With a small step back, Yaz's fingers find the hem of the Doctor's shirt. "Raise your arms for me?" 

Heaving a quiet sigh in the space between them, the Doctor allows Yaz to remove the garment. She glances down at her own torso and scrunches her nose at the explosion of colors - blue, red and a few spots of purple - littering her skin. 

The dark haired woman gasps, grazing the contour of a bruise blossoming on the Doctor's hipbone with shaky fingertips. "Doctor?" 

"Ah, erm..." She looks down, swallowing through a flutter in her stomach at the ghosting touch. "I was trying to get to the kitchen before you showed up, and I just... Fell. Few times." 

Yaz's frown deepens, empty fist clenching as she forces a deep breath into her lungs. A flash of vivid anger barrels through her brain, as her heart thunders in her chest, when she remembers that the clearly painful injury was caused by her own mother. 

"Are you okay?" The Doctor tilts her head, meeting clouded brown eyes. 

"Yes." Yaz assures, her voice flat. 

Hesitating, the Time Lord's tongue runs against her bottom lip nervously. "I don't think you are." 

The gentle tone draws Yaz's eyes up to meet an openly concerned hazel gaze. "Are you?" She whispers back, sadly.

The Doctor sighs, pushing back against memories of a blinding pain coursing through her body. "I thought the bath was supposed to make me feel better." She points out, brightening her tone. 

Yaz allows the elusive reply with a steadying intake of breath. She brings her attention back to her initial task, her eyes flickering between the Doctor's polka dotted bra and blue trousers.

A few seconds of awkward fumbling later, buttons come undone, and Yaz has to bite her lip to muffle a chuckle as she catches sight of the Doctor's rainbow-littered boxer. "Is that what you meant about rainbows?" 

"It's exactly what I meant, Yasmin Khan." She grips the younger woman's elbows, raising each feet to let the trousers slide off her legs. 

“I can do the rest." She assures, spotting the flush warming Yaz's cheeks. "Can you just..." Motioning to her back, she blows out a strand of hair falling in her eyes. "Get the catch." 

"Of course." Yaz murmurs and closes the distance between them to reach around the Doctor's back, careful to keep her arms loose. Their height difference leaves her head falling against the other woman's shoulder, as she slips her fingers under the clasp. 

Yaz freezes and battles a sudden longing for a hug - she's already caused the Doctor enough pain - scrambling to remember the simple process of undoing a bra. 

"Yaz?" 

With a sharp intake of breath, Yaz snaps out of somber thoughts. "I'm fine." She says, with a faint gasp. "I'm just... Give me a minute." Burying her nose where the Doctor's neck meets her shoulders, she allows herself a peaceful moment of quiet. 

The Doctor frowns, confused by the chaotic rhythm to Yaz's breathing. She tentatively laces her arms low on the dark haired woman's back, tugging her closer. 

"What..." Yaz stiffens, glancing up. "You're injured. I don't want to hurt you." 

"Doesn't hurt." The Doctor tries, sighing at the single raised eyebrow earned by her reply. "Well, just a little. And you're sad. I want to hug you." 

The earnestness coloring her voice pulls at Yaz's heart, softening her frown. "When you don't look like the Time Lord version of a rainbow, maybe." She teases, with a quick peck on the Doctor's cheek. 

Taking a step back, Yaz carefully ignores the confused head tilt aimed in her direction. She glances back to the bubble-filled bath. "Are you sure you'll be okay?" 

"Yes." She assures with a wistful smile. "Thank you." 

"I'll take a shower, and get you some more comfortable clothes to sleep in." Yaz nods to herself, already striding towards the door. "It won't take long." 

The Doctor watches her leave, before getting rid of her underwear and slipping into welcoming, warm water. She leans back into the tub with a content hum, happy to feel the tension still coiling her muscles fade away.

***************

Standing on steadier legs, the Doctor wraps a blue towel around her body and glances through the doorway, watching Yaz search through a drawer. 

“What’cha doing?” She slurs with drooping eyelids, battling the exhaustion that replaced the adrenaline-fueled thoughts in her head. 

Yaz startles, throwing a frown over her shoulder. “You're supposed to be waiting for me.“ She points out, gauging the Doctor’s condition with a critical eye. 

She doesn't look about to keel over anymore, and the unnaturally white color clinging to her cheeks faded, replaced by a warm flush. There's still a deep weariness dimming the usual sparkling green of her irises, prompting Yaz to grab the first sleeping clothes she finds. 

"There." She says, handing them over. 

The Doctor takes the offered clothes, muffling a yawn against her palm. "Thanks." She turns on her heels, slips into the warm sweatshirt and pajama bottom, and goes through the mechanical process of brushing her teeth. 

A minty aftertaste lingering in her mouth, the Doctor returns to her bedroom to find Yaz peeling blankets back. She murmurs a grateful "Thank you”, falling face first into the soft comfort of fluffy pillows. 

A dip in the mattress draws her head up, and she finds Yaz's concerned pupils glued in her direction. 

"Just need a nap. Few hours, maybe less." She yawns, a clumsy hand patting the other woman's nearby leg. "Promise."

Yaz's quiet hum doesn't sound convinced, leaving the Doctor wishing she was awake enough to prove her statement. 

She _is_ fine. Well, mostly. She _will_ be fine, after a few hours of sleep get rid of the residual poison still achingly traveling through her body. 

"Are you staying?" The Doctor whispers, palm covering Yaz's knee. 

"For a bit." The dark haired woman smiles, tracing the edge of the Time Lord's ears. 

"Yaz?" 

"Hm?" She blinks lazily, carding through tousled blond hair. 

"I'm okay now." 

The corner of Yaz's mouth twitch in a wistful smile, as she swallows through a tight sensation at the back of her throat. "Yeah." She murmurs. "Me too." 

When the Doctor's breathing turns deep and regular, Yaz sighs quietly. She dips her head and presses a last, lingering kiss to her temple, forcing herself to ignore the content murmur earned by the action. 

The Doctor needs sleep, and Yaz's insomnia lurks in a corner of her mind. She won't risk keeping the other woman from much needed rest, not after the day they both had. 

Yaz stands and pads back to the front room, plopping down on the purple sofa. She buries her face in her hands and screws her eyes shut, thankful for a sudden wave of fatigue that keeps her from engaging with the violent tumble of emotions bursting in her brain. 

Deciding to put off the daunting task until her sleeping trouble wakes her - probably in the middle of the night, she notes to herself - Yaz toes off her boots. 

With a resigned sigh, she crosses her arms and pulls a blanket laying around over her shoulders as she rests her head on the couch's arm, determined to enjoy a blissfully quiet, if short-lived, nap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for all the comments and kudos! They make my day every time, especially recently! :-)


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day later than I was aiming for, but I’m happy with this one! I hope everyone enjoys a bit more fluff, drama will pick up next week 😄

A muffled scream.

Yaz’s eyelids flutter, her hands grappling with the blanket wrapped loosely around her shoulders. She springs to her feet, almost slamming into the door leading to the Doctor’s bedroom, that bursts opened under the impact. 

Feet planted on the floor, Yaz blinks away the last traces of sleep clouding her brain, as her eyes circle the space around her. 

The room is pitch black, except for a sliver of moonlight piercing through a gap in between heavy curtains. The dim lighting falls on the bed where the Doctor is sitting, gasping in loud breaths. 

One hand clutched into the collar of her shirt, the Time Lord fights to fill her lungs with oxygen, a tight, uncomfortable sensation squeezing around her chest. A dip on the mattress snaps her attention up, wild eyes finding Yaz’s concerned gaze. 

“Yaz-“ The Doctor chokes, hand outstretched towards Yaz who meets her halfway, folding cold fingers between her own. 

“Hi.” She says softly, shuffling closer in the mess of blankets. “What happened?” 

The Doctor’s lips part as she fails to find her words. With a quiet head shake, she blinks through a sudden sheen of tears blurring her vision. 

Yaz’s stomach drops in sympathy, before she shifts her grip, freeing one of her hand to press under the Doctor's collarbone. The younger woman has to bite her lip to contain a reflex wince. The thunder of heartbeats echoing under her fingertips is noticeable through the woman's thick sweatshirt. 

Glancing up, Yaz flinches when she finds green-brown pupils glued to the point of contact between them. Mumbling a quick apology - she knows better than to touch someone in the midst of a panic attack without asking - she tries to take back her hand.

The Doctor’s arm shoots up, fingers clenching around Yaz’s wrist. The blond frowns, scrambling for her voice before settling on an emphatic shake of her head. Words might be slipping out of her grasp for the moment, but the grounding feeling of Yaz's palm soothes the restless chaos of memories in her head. 

The nightmare that woke the Doctor, full of vivid sensations and the reminder of a fight for every atom of oxygen, kick-started her respiratory bypass system. 

Despite the relief of healing muscles working again, the sharp pain traveling down her chest left her struggling for air, a yelp of fearful surprise spilling from her mouth. Before she could understand what was happening, Yaz barreled into the room. 

Raising her eyes to face the dark haired woman, the Doctor runs her tongue against her teeth, failing to put words on her conflicting emotions. With a low growl, she feels her patience running thin, helpless to ease the concern in the chestnut gaze frowning at her without speaking. 

The forced silence sneaking into every corner of the room weighs heavily on Yaz's mind, until she stifles the hint of panic growing at the edge of her conscious thoughts. 

Yaz might be uncomfortable with how quiet the Doctor is being, but for a woman who prides herself on her constant ability to talk, the sensation has to be unbearable. 

With a steadying intake of breath, Yaz shuffles to her knees. "Listen." She starts, pressing a hand to the Time Lord's cheek, the other still firmly nestled under her collarbone. "How about you let me do the talking for once?" The frantic nod she receives calms Yaz's worries. 

"You had a nightmare, right?" The guess earns her another, much slower nod. "And you woke up, and you felt like you couldn't breathe." 

The Doctor blinks, tilting her head into the warm, soft skin cupping the side of her face. Yaz chooses to take the gesture as confirmation, noticing the rhythm of slowing heartbeats. 

"I know it feels scary, but it’s not real. See?" She glances down, eyes lingering on the shaky movements of the Doctor's chest. Hazel irises follow her gaze, watching Yaz’s hand move up and down every time she breathes. 

"Do you want to try a trick my sister taught me?" Yaz offers tentatively, in the stretching quiet. 

The question catches the Doctor's attention, a hint of curious interest brightening cloudy pupils. 

“All right.” Yaz mumbles to herself, slipping her touch to rest on the Doctor’s stomach. "Breathe as slow as you can, but try to make my hand move. It'll help you take deeper breaths." She explains, watching the other woman's attention slide down. 

The Doctor narrows her eyes and shoves away distracting bribes of memories. She focuses on the air flowing in and out of her lungs, determined to move her stomach to the same rhythm.

A few failed attempts later, droplets of sweat trickling down her neck, the Doctor glances up and raises a satisfied eyebrow. 

"Well done." Yaz smiles, gently. "Try again?"

The next couple of deep inhales are easier, with the pressure that was squeezing the Time Lord's chest slowly fading away. 

"Do you want to try speaking?" Yaz prompts, sensing the shift in the Doctor's body language. 

"Thank you." She croaks out, words tumbling out of her mouth before her brain can filter her thoughts. "I really love talking, Yaz. It's brilliant. You’re brilliant. Gold star for you.”

Yaz chuckles, gently patting the Doctor’s stomach. “Welcome back.” She grins, moving to the edge of the bed. "How about I make us some tea?" 

"No." The Time Lord gulps. "Thanks." 

"What?" Yaz freezes, caught off-guard by the stern denial of her casual offer. "I thought tea was your solution for every problem." She points out, keeping her voice light. 

"That was before I tried aspirin flavored tea." The Doctor snaps back, caught somewhere between a poor attempt to steer away from a memory that haunted her dreams, and an irrational wave of frustration. 

"Ah." Yaz gnaws at her bottom lip, uncertain. "Are you sure you don't want to give it a tr..."

"Yes!" The Doctor rebuffs, forcing a calming breath into her lungs. "Very sure." 

Silence stretches over the bedroom as Yaz considers the best course of action. 

"What?" The Doctor asks when she notices the hesitant frown on her features. "What's wrong?"

"I think..." Yaz starts tentatively, despite the tension progressively filling the gap between them. "I think you love tea, and you shouldn't let what happened today take that from you." 

Fidgeting with a loose thread on the blanket, the Doctor sighs. 

"I know it's scary, and you just had a nightmare." Yaz continues, stilling the anxious digits unraveling soft material. "But I'm here for you. If you want to try." 

"I don't." The mechanical reply comes right away. "But you're right." Another sigh. "Of course you're right." 

"I'll be right back." Yaz grins softly, raising to her knees to drop a kiss to the Doctor's forehead. "You'll be okay for a m..."

"Yes." The smile twitching on the Doctor's features is shaky, but genuine. "I'll be fine." She assures, watching Yaz jumps off the bed to hurry to the kitchen. Leaning back against the headboard, she tugs the blankets up under her chin and closes her eyes. 

***************

"There you go." Yaz reenters the bedroom a few minutes later, offering a mug to the Doctor. "Milk and honey with a dash of tea." She smiles encouragingly and slips under the cover on her side, leaving her own tea on the bedside table. 

The Doctor wraps careful hands around the cup, swallowing heavily as wisps of smoke hit the tip of her nose. The familiar scent sends a tremble through her wrists, and she frowns, unhappy. 

She loves tea. Has always loved tea, for as long as she can remember. The ritual is ingrained in her memories, and punctuates some of the most important moments of her life. 

On the other hand, the earthy smell is enough to send painful echoes of ghost pain coursing through her chest. Her lungs feel tighter, and the space between her hearts burns. 

On the other, other hand - not that she has three hands, but if she did - Yaz's comforting warmth dulls the sharp edge to her memory, anchoring the Doctor to the present with her quiet, steady support. 

"You don't have to." Yaz interrupts, before the Doctor can add more hands to her already confusing inner debate. The deepening frown knitting her eyebrows tugs at Yaz’s heartstrings, stirring up a vague burst of guilt. "I know it's scary, and you already had a long day. It can wai..."

"I want to." The Doctor decides. She shifts her grip on the mug, inhales sharply and reaches out for Yaz. "Hold my hand?" 

"Always." 

A fleeting moment later, Yaz's secure touch wrapped around her fingers, the Doctor dips her lips into the hot liquid. She closes her eyes, thankful for the hefty amount of honey the other woman drizzled into the cup. 

The sweet, characteristic taste settles warmly in her stomach, a stark contrast to Najia's more bitter version of the drink. Squeezing the palm nestled against her own, the Doctor flashes a trembling smile in Yaz's direction. 

"I'm sorry." Yaz whispers, after the third tentative sip. "I'm sorry my mum made you afraid of drinking tea. That she tried to kill you." She rests her forehead on the Doctor's shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of coconut shampoo. 

"I don't know..." Swallowing through a tight knot at the back of her throat, Yaz screws her eyes shut. "I don't know what I would have done without you, if she'd..." Her voice breaks, leaving the end of the sentence to hang heavily between them. 

"Have a great life." The Doctor interrupts, nuzzling against her hairline. 

Frowning, Yaz’s sharp gaze snaps away from the blanket. “What?”

“Without me. I’m sure your mum had an escape plan. You’d have gone home and lived a great life.” She pauses, head tilted. “And fought with your family, I suppo...”

“Shut up.” Yaz almost growls, the protest rumbling low in her throat. “You think that’s what I want? A _great life_ back in Arcadia?” 

“Well, no b...”

“But nothing.” She cuts off, frustrated. “You don’t understand.”

“Yaz, I...” The Doctor begins, biting back the apology at the tip of her tongue. “I don’t mean right away. I mean that you would have moved o...”

“Stop.” Yaz swallows, stomach plummeting in her chest. A voice at the back of her mind reminds her she never discussed her life before moving to the Citadel with the Doctor, and she sighs.

They brush over the topic more frequently since their first official date, but Yaz is always careful to keep her childhood stories light, the embarrassing details still buried deeply in her head. 

Of course the Doctor doesn’t understand. She can't, she doesn't have all the facts. Yaz grits her teeth together, coming to an uncomfortable realization, before squaring her shoulders. 

"Do you know why I learnt martial arts?“ She asks, finding sudden interest in the last sip of tea swirling in her mug. "Why I decided to teach others how to protect themselves?"

"If I did, it would be one really lucky gue..." The Doctor interrupts herself, catching Yaz's unimpressed side-look. "No idea." 

"It started in Year 9. A girl named Izzy Flint noticed me and Sonya living in the same house. She told th..." Yaz slows down, spotting the confused frown thrown in her direction. "It's against the law, Doctor. Families are allowed a son and a daughter. Other kids are sent to army training. Don't you know this?" 

"Of course, yes." Hazel pupils grow somber. "Trying to change it, but..." She blows out a long breath, snapping herself out of unpleasant memories of High Council meetings. "What happened to you?" 

"Izzy was..." Yaz pauses, dark irises glazing over. "Popular. She was funny, and clever, and everyone wanted to be her friend. But she wasn't a good person. The day after she realized I had a sister, everyone in our class knew. And everyone assumed my family was rich, or that we knew someone in charge in Arcadia. That's when everything started going wrong." 

"I don't understand." The Doctor interrupts. "You were kids. Why did it matter, how much money you had or who your parents knew?" 

"I didn't understand either. I think..." Yaz shrugs and inhales sharply. "My family was different." She pauses, considering the Doctor with a tight smile. "I don't know how it works for Time Lords, but kids at my school liked to gang up on people who were different."

The Doctor hums. "Sounds familiar." She offers, ignoring images of her own childhood flashing through her mind. 

Yaz raises a single eyebrow, intrigued by the wistful voice. She shakes her head, remembering the purpose of her story. "So, they ganged up on me. And they were relentless. Every day, I woke up and I dreaded going to school. It kept growing, until I couldn't even concentrate on my work without feeling sick." She frowns. "That's when my grades started to slip." 

"I tried to tell mum and dad, but I could see how worried they were." Yaz hesitates, considering the situation under a new angle. "I think..." She starts slowly. "Maybe they were worried someone would tell authorities that they had two daughters. We moved, about a week after the last day of school." 

Tucking the realization in a far-away corner of her brain, Yaz returns to her story. "Back then, I didn't know why my parents couldn't help. I felt so alone, and when I failed my first test..."

Gulping, Yaz fights back against vivid images of that day. "I thought it was the end of the world. Came home, packed a bag, and I just... I ran away. I don't know where I was going, I just knew that no other places could possibly be this bad." 

"What happened to you?"

Yaz glances up, surprised to find the Doctor's eyebrows pinched together, her lips parted and her jaw clenched, in an expression of fearful concern. Allowing the smile twitching at the corner of her mouth to spread, she rests a hand on the slope of the blond's neck and presses their lips together. 

"I'm fine now." Yaz points out, pulling back to rest her forehead against the Doctor's. "And nothing horrible happened back then. A woman found me, sitting on a bench at the train station. She talked to me." She stops, remembering the stranger's gentle patience that coaxed a younger version of herself to open up. "No, she listened. I did most of the talking."

"I was fourteen years old. It's the first time someone talked to me like I was a real person, not some kid with childish problems. When I was done, she invited me to her karate class. Said to give it a week, if I didn't feel any better, she would help me talk to my parents." 

"I still remember the first day." Yaz continues with a thoughtless grin. "I had fun. For the first time in almost a year, I was around people my age, and there were no hidden looks, or whispers behind my back. Nobody snickered when I entered the room. It was freeing."

Yaz bites her lip. "And I managed to throw the tallest boy of the class on the ground, on my first fight. I felt strong and good about myself. I made friends too." 

"You're the strongest person I know." The Doctor interjects in a whisper. "Have I ever told you that?" 

Yaz opens her mouth to speak, clicking her jaw shut when words slip out of her grasp. 

"Didn't think I did. But you are, Yaz. You're strong, and kind, and amazing, and I'm so happy y..."

The rest of her sentence is muffled in a kiss that grows heated, Yaz's tongue sweeping against the Doctor's bottom lip. 

"That's what I'm getting at." Yaz breathes out, when they separate. "I had my family to lean on, after that day. My sister knew. The woman who taught me karate was her school teacher. She called her, when she saw me running away, said she suspected I would do something stupid. 

"Sonya was a star." Yaz swallows, steadying her racing heartbeat. "Don't tell her I said that." 

"But I still wasn't happy at home, Doctor. Not for a long time." She frowns, pondering her own words. "My life was fine. But there were those moments where I was sad, or my heart felt heavy, and I was lonely." 

"I haven't been lonely since we made friends. You changed my life in a lot of ways." Yaz smiles gently, thumb rubbing the soft skin under the Doctor's shiny eyes. "And I know I would be fine without you. I do. But I don't want to go back to how it was before." She gulps, sighing. "Do you understand?" 

“Yeah.” The Doctor nods, pursing her lips. “Are you sure?” She prompts, clarifying the question when Yaz offers a silent, hitched eyebrow as only response. "That you're not sad anymore?"

Swallowing through a wave of fond affection that stings the back of her throat, Yaz smiles. “Sometimes I am, but I cope better now.”

"Can you tell me?" The Doctor wonders. "If it happens again? I want to help." 

“You can’t help.” She shakes her head, softening her voice. “I just need a bit of quiet until it goes away, is all.”

“Hm.” The Doctor considers the new information. “Someone once told me we could be quiet together, if my thoughts ever get too loud.” She smiles, scrunching her nose. “Made me feel loads better. It’s scary to not understand what’s going on in your own head.” With a quiet sigh, she reaches out, palm up in a wordless offer. “It’s less scary when you’re not alone.”

Yaz hesitates, the rhythm of her own heartbeat pounding between her ears. Her gaze flickers from the Doctor’s offered limb to her face. 

“I’m done.” She murmurs, blinking away the sharp sensation of tears at the corner of her eyes. 

“What?” The Doctor asks, confused. “Done with what?”

“With whatever we were doing. I don’t want us to go on casual dates, when it fits both our schedules. I want to be with you.” 

The Doctor hesitates, ignoring a thread of bright hope weaving its way through her thoughts. “Just so we’re on the same page, you mea...”

“We’re married. I want to be your wife.”

“ - mean being together.” The Doctor completes her sentence, breathless. Her eyelids flutter shut, as she takes a second to kick-start the rational part of her brain. 

“I need you to be sure, Yaz.” She warns, openly meeting a clear chestnut gaze. “I told you how dangerous my position is, and how many people would love to see me dead. You saw it today.” With a loud intake of breath, the Doctor musters a smile. "There's no going back, if you decide to be my wife."

“I’m sure. We can protect each other.” Yaz interrupts, determined. "I trust you."

“Do you?”

The dark haired woman pauses, catching the shaky edge to the Doctor’s voice. “You’re scared.” Yaz whispers, ignoring the scoff drawn by her statement. 

“Just trying to make sure you know what you’re getting i...”

“I’m sure, Doc.” Yaz smiles, taking the hand still resting in the space between them. Pressing a kiss to cold knuckle, she inhales sharply. “Never been more sure. I love you.”

Funny. A voice at the back of Yaz’s head interjects. She always pictured the first time she would say those words to someone who isn't part of her family to be some grand romantic gesture. 

Yet, it’s the middle of the night, Yaz is clad in a wrinkled T-shirt and sweatpants, and the Doctor - hair sticking out in every direction and shadows darkening her features - look like someone who recently overcame a panic attack, but it’s perfect. 

The younger woman’s smile widens at the Doctor’s response, a quiet gasp and green-brown irises blurred by a layer of tears. 

“You d... I...” The Doctor stumbles, a lone tear trickling down her cheek. 

Yaz uses her free hand to brush it away. “You don’t have to say it back.” She assures. The wordless reaction speaks louder than any of the words the Time Lord could string together. 

The Doctor nods, tipping her head down to meet Yaz’s lips in a kiss that tastes of - salty - newness. 

When the older woman fails to contain a yawn, Yaz chuckles, gently tapping her shoulders. 

“You need to sleep. Turn over.” She says, not surprised by the Doctor’s stubborn frown. 

“What? Why?”

“Because we're starting this marriage on equal footing. Turn around.” Yaz repeats, amused by the Doctor’s grumbled agreement. 

“We’re already married, it doesn’t make sense.” She complains, laying on her side with her back to Yaz. “This is rubbish, I can’t even see you.”

“You can’t.” Yaz rolls her eyes. “But, I...” Resting her head on a pillow, she inches closer to the Doctor’s body until she can sneaks her arms around her waist and gently pulls back, mindful of her injuries. 

“Can hold you.” She explains, nose buried in a mess of blond hair. 

The Doctor freezes and tries to gauge if she likes the foreign position. Feeling Yaz's heart thrums against her back is different, as are the soft breaths warming the side of her neck. 

Brilliant, she decides with a bashful grin, tangling their legs together and sinking further against Yaz’s chest, eyelids fluttering shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to everyone taking the time to leave kudos and comments! I always love feedbacks 😄


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m aiming to post two chapters this week, because part of this one has been written for a long time. Expect the next update either on Friday, or next Monday :-).

When a stubborn ray of sunlight peeks its way through heavy curtains and falls on Yaz's nose, she screws her eyes shut and buries her face against a soft pillow. 

Groaning, she lets her hands roam under the mess of blankets, frowning when all she finds at her side are cold sheets and empty space. 

"Doctor?" Yaz chances, peeling one eye opened. 

"In 'ere." The other woman sticks her head through the doorway between the bathroom and bedroom, toothpaste bubbling at the corner of her mouth. She raises a finger, returns to the sink and finishes brushing her teeth before padding closer to the bed. 

Yaz raises an unhappy eyebrow, spotting the Time Lord's signature clothes. "Where are you going? You can't work today, not aft..."

"I know." The Doctor raises her arms in agreement. "Taking the day off. But..." She sighs, head tipped down. "There's someone I need to talk to." 

"Missy." Yaz catches on quickly, huffing. "What are you going to do with her?" 

The Doctor purses her lips, rubbing her forehead. "What do you want me to do?" She returns the question, voice low. 

A few options flash through Yaz's brain, surprising the younger woman with vivid images of violence. "I don't know." She swallows as she struggles to contain the anger simmering in her stomach. 

Frowning, the Doctor hesitates when she notices the hardened edge to Yaz's tone. "I think you do." She challenges softly. 

"She tried to kill you." The dark haired woman points out, watching the Doctor's quiet nod. "And it wasn't the first time." 

"It wasn't."

Yaz's fingers drum against her thigh, as she leans against the headboard. "I don't want to see her again. Make her leave." 

The Doctor sighs and scratches the back of her neck. "I get it. I'm angry too, for what she tried to do to me. To us."

"But?" Yaz guesses, unimpressed. 

"But I don't think I can do that." 

"Why not?" She insists urgently. "I know you've been friends for a long time, but you said she tried to kill you more than once."

"Yaz, what I do to Missy, I have to do to your mum." The Doctor explains, opting for the simplest way to escape the growing tension. "Do you want me to banish her?" 

The question tips Yaz's convictions off-balance, leaving her gasping. "But it wasn't her idea." 

"I know." The Doctor approaches, sitting on the side of the mattress and reaching for Yaz's hand. "But your mum is the one who poisoned me."

The gentle reminder draws a silent, wistful nod from Yaz. She gulps and squares her shoulders. "You're right." Her eyes find the hazel gaze patiently waiting for her next words, before flickering down to the comforting warmth enveloping her fingers. "You have to banish them both." 

The Doctor blinks through a wave of stunned indecision. "What?" 

"You're the most important person in my life." Yaz justifies herself, using her free hand to card through the Doctor's messy fringe. "And they almost killed you. What if they try again?" 

"I can't..." The Doctor's jaw slacks opened. "I can't do that. Yaz, she's your mum." 

"Exactly. She's _my_ mum, and I'm telling you to do it." 

"Well..." The Time Lord inhales shakily. "What about the rest of your family? I can't do that to them." 

Yaz pauses, surprised by the sudden concern for Hakim or Sonya's feelings. "I'll talk to my dad and sister and I'll tell them it's my decision. They can leave too, if it's what they want." She states, tilting her head when she notices the Doctor's deepening frown. "It's not my mum you're worried about, is it?" 

"Of course it is." The Doctor pushes herself away from the bed, pacing in the narrow space between windows. "What else would I b..."

"It's about Missy." Yaz argues, a prickly edge to her voice. "Doctor, she tried to kill you. That's not how friendship works." She pleads. 

"It's how we work."

"Then you're not friends!" 

"Maybe not." The Doctor whispers. "I wish I could explain it to you." 

"Try me." Yaz offers, softening her voice when she catches the sad slump of the blond's shoulders. "I can help."

"I need to talk to her fir..."

"I'll come with you." She suggests, earning the hint of a smile. 

"No." The Doctor shakes her head, gently turning Yaz down. "You can't. This... I have to do it on my own."

"Why?" The dark haired woman frowns. "I don't understand. What if she tries to kill you again?" 

"Oh, she won't." The Doctor shrugs. "It would be too easy." 

"What?" Yaz blinks through a wave of confusion. "What do you mean?" 

"We work together. Have meetings together, sometimes we even go out to eat." The Doctor explains. "She had hundreds of occasions to kill me herself. She didn't. Want to know why?" A silent nod later, she continues. "Because it ruins her fun when it's too easy. Missy is her own worst enemy, remember that." 

"But..." Yaz begins tentatively. "What if you're wrong?" 

The Doctor meets a questioning chestnut gaze with a steady smile, crouching at Yaz's side, one hand cupping the side of her face. "You said you trusted me, last night." 

The younger woman nods again, swallowing heavily. 

"Then trust me. I'll come back, and I'll explain everything." She hesitates, eyebrows pinched together. "Well, it's complicated. But I'll try my best, I promise."

With a sharp intake of breath, Yaz shoves away every instinct screaming at her. "All right. I think you're wrong, and you should banish her. And I'm really scared." She says breathless. "But I trust you, really. Just..." Clearing her throat, she musters a smile. "Just come back. We can argue about this later." 

"Give me an hour." The Doctor straightens up, casually dropping a kiss to Yaz's forehead. Fingers tangle in her right sleeve, tugging as she tries to stride away. "Yes?" She frowns, surprised. 

Lifting her chin, Yaz grips into the lapels of a grey coat to guide her wife down and press their lips together. 

The Doctor lingers, nuzzling dark skin as her forehead rests against Yaz's, until she forces herself to put some distance between them. "I'm going." She says, breathless. 

"Yeah." The younger woman blinks, gathering her thoughts. "Yes. I'll be waiting."

"Yaz." The Time Lord calls out softly, hovering in the doorway with her arms braced on either side of the dark wood, her back to the room. "You're the most important person in my life too. But I don't want to choose." 

Yaz freezes as the Doctor leaves, the statement bringing up her own voice from a corner of her memory. 

_'Don't force me to pick, mum. I don't think you would like my choice very much.'_

She frowns, confused. Is she repeating her mother's mistakes, by judging a relationship she can't possibly understand? Did Najia feel the same puzzlement, the same helplessness when Yaz stood up for the Doctor, as she feels when her wife stands up for Missy?

Yaz gulps, throwing the cover off her legs. There’s only one way to find out.

***************

"I almost died." The Doctor's words startle the other occupant of the room, and she allows the smirk twitching at the corner of her mouth to bloom. Leaning against the door leading to Missy's quarters, she meets her friend's responding glare with a single, raised eyebrow. 

"Condolences." The older woman drawls in reply, eyes firmly glued to the book perched on her thigh. "How did that happen?" She taunts, watching the Doctor click the door shut behind her. 

"Why don't you tell me?" 

With a silent sigh, Missy slips a bookmark between pages and straightens up in her armchair. "I see someone doesn't know how to keep secrets. I'll have to do something about that." 

"Oh, no you won't." The Doctor warns, circling around the front room until she faces the darkened fireplace. "You leave Yaz's family alone. This is between the two of us." 

"Is it?" 

"Yes. And give me a little credit. Najia didn't tell me anything." The Doctor lies, before swiftly moving the conversation away from the woman and her family. "I can recognize your signature."

Missy snickers. "I'm flattered, really. Maybe you've been paying attention after all." 

The words captured the Doctor's interest, shaking loose memories of Missy's last few assassination attempts. "That's what you're after, isn't it?" She asks, eyebrows hitched. "My attention?" 

The question draws a bout of sarcastic laughter from the Time Lady. "Isn't that what I'm always after?" 

"You're not making sense." The Doctor points out, exasperated. "You keep trying to kill me. Dead people can't give you attention." 

"You're here, aren't you?" Missy counters, throwing her head back against her chair's arm, legs thrown over the opposite side. "Exactly what I wanted. I do wish you weren't making so much noise though." 

"I'm only here because Yaz has excellent timing." The Doctor grits though clenched teeth. "You remember who I am, yeah? Killing the Lord-President is a lottery. You could have replaced me..." She trails off, with a self-satisfied smile. "Or been thrown in prison." 

"Didn't happen the last time." Missy singsongs, flashing a sharp grin. 

The Doctor freezes, eyes growing wide, while her breath catches in her throat. "What?" 

"Nothing." 

"What did you say?" The blond repeats, slowly. 

"Oh, you heard me." Missy sighs, rolling her eyes. "It's why you're going all... Stressed. You really need to find a hobby, I think the job is getting t..."

"Shut up." The Doctor snaps. "You can't just..." She huffs, face buried into her hands. "Kill people you don't like. We've talked about this!"

"Why not?" The older woman wonders with a shrug. "It's not like anyone misses Rassilon. You should tha..." 

"Because it's wrong!" The Doctor interrupts abruptly. 

"Is it?" Missy narrows her eyes, springing to her feet to prowl to the Doctor's side. "Really? I don't remember you complaining that it was wrong, when you decided to take credit for something I did." 

"It's not the same." The Time Lord argues, meeting the steely glare thrown her way with one of her own. "I had to do it, you kn..."

"You didn't." Missy interjects. "You undermined Rassilon's war plans for decades, without even being on the High Council. You could have let the General be the next Lord-President." She purrs, lowering her voice. "You decided being in charge would be the easiest way to force the future you wanted on Gallifrey, and you took it." 

" _The future I want_ is peace. Are you telling me I'm wrong?" The Doctor argues, ignoring her racing heartbeats. 

"I'm not the one who likes to judge people, Doctor." Missy grins. "I don't care how good or bad your agenda was. You're only getting it done thanks to me." 

The Doctor's jaw clicks shut as she starts pacing through the front room. Her decision to take the blame for Rassilon's murder was a sudden impulse, motivated by her desire to keep innocent people from getting hurt. That couldn't be wrong, could it? 

"And it's fine." Missy continues, shrugging when she meets her friend's gaze. "I created chaos, you used it, and it worked. Good for you. But you don't get to stand here and pretend you're better than me, when you made the exact same choice I did." 

The Doctor gulps. "I didn't kill anyo..."

"Maybe not." Missy tilts her head. "You weren't the one holding the weapon, but you're enjoying the consequences. Get off your moral high ground." 

The blond purses her lips, inhaling shakily. There's a reason why she avoids arguing with Missy, whenever possible. The woman's keen sense of manipulation never fails to plant a seed of the doubt in the Doctor's head.

Tucking her own internal debate about Rassilon's murder and its consequences in a corner of her mind, she sighs. "Now what?" 

Dark eyes return to the Doctor's, as Missy sinks back into her armchair and raises a confused eyebrow. 

"Do you plan on trying to kill me again?" She clarifies the question. 

Missy blows out a loud sigh. "I don't know." 

"You don't kn..." The Doctor interrupts herself, forcing a calming breath into her lungs. "What do you mean, you don't know?" 

"Depends." She replies, unhappy. "Are you going to remember I exist anytime soon?" 

"What?" Caught off-guard by the genuine note coloring Missy's words, the Doctor perches on the nearby coffee table, facing her friend. "What are you going on about? I saw you yesterday morning." 

"For work." Missy points out. "It's not the..." She trails off, voice morphing into a huff. "I went into Low Town last week. Started a fight between drunken idiots and sat back to watch, just like in the old days. And it's not..." Swallowing through a heavy sensation in her stomach, she scrambles for words. "Well, you weren't there." 

The Doctor's pupils grow wide, and she blinks through a moment of stunned puzzlement. "I'm Lord-President. I don't think I can go around starting fights anymore." She protests weakly. 

"You're so boring now." 

Rolling her eyes, the Time Lord ignores the quip. "I don't understand what you're trying to say, Missy." 

"I miss you!" She snaps, growling. "You're always with the High Council, or with your wife, or working on one of your bloody ships. When is the last time we just..." The flow of words trickles off, turning into a long sigh. "I want my friend back." 

"I..." The Doctor clicks her mouth shut, struggling to keep up with the shockingly open display of emotions. "I didn't know." Running a palm down her face, she ponders Missy's explanation. "Really?" 

The older woman shrugs, nibbling against the side of her thumb in stubborn silence, as the Doctor leans her elbows on her thighs, reeling. 

"Did you ever think to ask me?" Missy speaks softly, breaking the fleeting truce. 

"Ask you what?" 

"I would have married you." 

The Doctor's head snaps up, as she finds a dark gaze regarding her with reluctant sincerity that freezes her train of thoughts. "Ah, that's... Erm..." 

"Not out of love, obviously." Missy interrupts, scowling. "There's nothing there." 

The Doctor blinks, gnawing at her bottom lip as she gauges how far into their shared past she wants to delve into. "There used to be." She flinches when the words slip from her mouth. 

"If you're talking about that crush you had on me, don't. It was embarrassing, I don't know how you can live with yours..." 

"Missy." The Doctor interjects, folding her arms. 

The hint of impatience coloring her friend's voice derails the Time Lady's attempt to banter her way out of her predicament. Biting her lip, she gulps. 

"Maybe there was something, a long time ago." Missy admits in a whisper, eyes glazing over. "What happened?" 

"We grew up." The Doctor musters a tight smile, vaguely wondering where the sudden burst of detached self-awareness comes from. "And the choices we have to make went from 'should we cheat on the cosmic science test?' to 'should we execute a Rutan war criminal?'. Can't exactly run away from that." 

"We're awful for each other." She continues, heaving a long sigh in the tense quiet. "Doesn't mean I didn't care. I killed for you, Missy." 

"Yeah." The dark haired woman nods, remembering the incident. Her friend's horrified gaze and the foreign, uncomfortable squirming in her own stomach left a bitter taste in her mouth for days, and Missy didn't recognize the feeling until much later. It was compassion. 

Or as close as she could get to compassion. 

"That was always your problem." Missy murmurs. "You care about everything and everyone." 

"Yeah, well..." The younger woman starts, huffing. "You don't care about anyone, except you and me. I can't live that way, my life is much more than our friendship." 

"Mine too!" Missy counters, scrambling when the Doctor raises a skeptical eyebrow. "My life doesn't revolve around you, I... Have... Other friends. Well, people I talk to. And they listen to me." 

The Doctor's shoulders raise and fall, as she pinches the bridge of her nose. "Are you trying to hypnotize people again? That doesn't count as friendship." 

Missy lets the argument go, ignoring the growing loneliness that stings between her hearts. "Don't give me that look, we can't all be sentimental fools." 

The Doctor frowns. "Says the woman who just proposed to the sentimental fool." 

"I did not propose to you." Missy rolls her eyes, crossing her legs at the ankle. "I said I would have married you, out of necessity. Do keep up."

The tension knotting the Doctor's shoulders eases with the familiar teasing. She sighs and relaxed into the lighter conversation. "You know why I didn't ask, don't you?" 

"Yes. It's..." Missy hums pensively. "Would have torn us apart." 

"I didn't trust you to be the Lord-President's wife. It's too much power." The Doctor admits bluntly, trudging forwards before Missy's objection is fully formed. "And can you imagine us living together?"

Missy snickers, shaking her head. "Remember that week on Mondas? I almost took your head off after the first day." 

"You weren't exactly a delight either." The Doctor grumbles back, rolling her eyes. "You almost killed their Mayor." 

"It was an accident, that would never have happened, if you didn't crash the TARDIS on a planet with ant-sized people." 

"It wasn't a crash, it was... An experimental landing."

"That left us stranded for a week." 

"I never said it was a good experiment." 

Missy snorts as the Doctor leans back against her hands. She tilts her head, observing her friend as silence lingers. "Why did you do kill Rassilon?" 

"Just to see what would happen." The older woman divulges, shrugging. "And you're easier to manipulate than him." 

"Me?" The blond frowns, curiosity taking over her first, offended reaction. "How could you know I'd tell the High Council I killed h..."

"Please, I know you." Missy drawls, the hint of a smirk on her lips. "I knew you'd find a way to be the next Lord-President. Didn't expect you to claim you killed someone though, that was interesting." She trails off, seconds ticking by as both women ponder her words. 

"It worked out for both of us, I can order people around. They just assume I'm carrying out your decisions." Missy continues happily. 

The Doctor runs a tired hand down her face, exasperated. "What are you going on about? Why would people assume you're speaking for me?" 

"Because I'm your consort, and they're a bit thick." She shrugs. "And because they're used to seeing us together. Remember that name we got stuck with, at the Academy?" 

"Thoschei." The Doctor recalls, scrunching her nose. "Hated that bloody name." 

"Do you think I liked it? I could feel my reputation dwindle away, every time someone used it." Missy snaps back with a scowl. 

"Well, wouldn't want to ruin your reputation again." The Doctor snickers, standing. 

"Too late." Missy deadpans, watching her friend pads back to the entrance of the room with a hitched eyebrow. 

Nearing the doorway, the Doctor looks back over her shoulder and meets curious, dark pupils observing her. She blinks, pausing. "Can you talk to me, next time you feel..." She hesitates. "Next time you want your friend back?" 

Missy frowns, caught off-guard. "Isn't that what I just did?" 

"I mean _before_ you try to kill me. Please." 

The older woman considers the request, pursing her lips to fight off a smile. "I'll think about it, since you asked so nicely." 

Rolling her eyes, the Doctor blows out a long breath as she leaves the room. She knows it's the best compromise she can get out of Missy, she only wishes there was a safe way to rekindle their friendsh...

The Doctor's steps slow in the hallway, until she backtracks and sticks her head through the door. "Missy?" 

The Time Lady's gaze snaps up from the book held in her hands, as the Doctor scans the space around her to find it empty. 

"I heard the Rani got a new skimmer." She pauses, a smirk twitching at the corner of her lips. "Supposed to be delivered to the main deck tonight, would be a shame if something happened to it." 

"A shame." The words slip easily from her mouth, before Missy clears her throat and sinks deeper into the sofa. "If I coincidentally happened to wander to the harbor tonight, would I find you there?" 

"Only one way to find out." 

"Hm. Maybe I will, if I have nothing better to do." She lowers her voice, throwing a glare over the top of her book. "Can I have some quiet now? Trying to read, and you're very noisy."

The Doctor nods, throwing a mock salute towards her friend before she strolls back into the corridor, hands buried deep in her pockets and a grin clinging to her lips. 

This is going to be fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kudos and comments on the last chapter! The support means a lot :-D


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took a week off posting to write a little further along, and I have a better idea of where this is going! I'm tying up loose ends about a particular part of the plot today, I hope everyone enjoys :-D

"How long are you going to keep doing this?"

"Doing what?" Yaz replies to Ryan's question, frowning. 

"Angrily pace in front of your family's quarters." 

"I'm not..." Yaz starts, frown deepening as she glances towards her own restless feet. She slows her steps, sparing an annoyed thought for the part of her brain that notices the sudden quiet of the hallway, when her boots stop hitting the stone floor. "Angrily pacing." 

Ryan's skeptical look draws a long sigh from Yaz. "What am I supposed to tell them?" She groans, throwing her hands in the air. "What if they all knew? What if it was a family conspiracy to get rid of the Doctor?" 

The dark haired woman folds her arms, fingers nervously twitching around a loose thread on her jumper. "And she's the Lord-President. What happens to people who try to kill the Lord-President?" 

"Shouldn't you be discussing that with the Doctor?" Ryan points out, watching Yaz's anxious energy travels back through her feet, as the woman circles the space near the door. 

"I would." Yaz mumbles. "If she wasn't busy visiting Missy, we could talk ab..."

"Missy?" Ryan repeats, a touch of worry coloring his voice. "The same Missy who was trying to get rid of her? Why did you let her go?" 

"She's very convincing." Yaz replies with an exasperated sigh. "And I reckon if something goes wrong, she can always..." She rolls up her sleeve, allowing Ryan to catch a glimpse of her wedding bracelet. "Call for help." 

"How does it work?" He asks, intrigued. "Is there really a psychic link between you two? I didn't think humans could do telep..."

"I don't know, I didn't have time to ask." Yaz clicks her mouth shut, reviewing Ryan's concerns. "Hold on, how do you know Missy is involved?" 

"Your mum told your dad and sister last night." Ryan rushes to explain. "Don't worry, I won't say anything." 

Yaz pauses, slowly approaching her friend until she's facing him. "My mum told my dad and sister. Which one of them told you?" 

"Erm..." He scratches the back of his neck, finding a sudden interest in a spill of mud staining the floor. "Sonya didn't mean t..."

"You..." Yaz interrupts, digging her finger into his chest. "Me, and Graham. Dinner tonight. We'll talk about what Sonya didn't mean to do." 

"Yaz, no." Ryan whines. "Shouldn't you be busy with the Doctor instead? How's she feeling?" 

Yaz snickers. "It's gossip. She'll be there." 

"Could you not gossip about my dating life?" 

"Ha. You're dating then." Yaz smirks, triumphant. The expression fades once she catches up with her words. "Wait, she's my _sister_. I don't want my friend dating my sist..."

"Great!" Ryan claps his hands together. "Let's never talk about it again." 

"You're not getting out of dinner with us." Yaz states, grateful for the distraction as her gaze falls back to the ground. 

"I'll need it after today." She continues, pointing to the door leading to her family's apartment with her chin. "Do you know if my dad and Sonya are there?" 

"They went to get breakfast, it's just your mum." He replies, voice softened. 

Yaz squares her shoulders. "Right. I should probably..." She inhales sharply, picturing the confrontation in her head. "Talk to her." 

"Yeah." He agrees and turns to slip a key into the lock. "I'm staying here, if you need anything." Ryan cracks the door opened, tiling his head to motion Yaz forwards. "You'll be fine." 

Yaz musters an answering smile, walking passed him. She winces when she finds the Najia sitting at a round table in a corner, arms folded and staring at the empty chair facing her. 

Blowing out a long sigh, Yaz feels her legs stiffen as she pads closer to her mother and purposefully clears her throat. The older woman raises her head, startling when she meets her oldest daughter's questioning glance. Features smoothing in an undecipherable expression, Najia opens her mouth to speak. 

"Don't." Yaz interrupts, slipping into the opposite seat. "I'm only here because you're my mum." She warns, slowly. "And I want to understand how you turned into a murderer." 

Najia swallows audibly, trailing her eyes to the window on her left side. "I never wanted to hurt anyone." 

"I know." Yaz fires back, voice dripping with sarcasm. "You only wanted to _kill_ the Doctor." 

"I thought she was controlling you." Najia pleads, fingers wrung together on the table. "I didn't know if I could trust anything you were saying about her." 

Forcing a deep breath into her lungs, Yaz decides to cut to the chase. Another empty discussion won't make her mother change her mind, if she can't understand what's really bugging the older woman. "Mum, why is it so hard to believe that my feelings for the Doctor are real?"

Najia's eyes grow wide. "Because she's a Time Lord!" She answers, an incredulous edge to her voice. 

"A Time Lord." Yaz repeats. "And what species do you think Missy is? Sontaran?" 

"She..." Her voice trickles off, Najia's head tipped down. "We both wanted to get rid of the Doctor. Missy said she was her best enemy, I wanted to protect you. I figured we could work together, but I never trusted her. She's terrifying." 

Yaz's fingers squeeze into fists. She breathes through a wave of anxious dread, struggling to ignore the Doctor's planned meeting with a woman who defines their relationship as 'best enemies'. 

"I don't know what I was thinking." Najia picks up her sentence. "But I've been afraid since you left home. I wish I could describe that fear to you, it's paralyzing, Yaz." She pauses, a slow shiver racking down her back. "It makes your heart hurt constantly. All I could think about was how those people were treating you."

The older woman swallows audibly. "Then we started receiving your letters, and you sounded happy. I didn't understand. How could you happy, when you were surrounded by monsters?"

Najia spots Yaz's parted lips from the corner of her eyes and raises her hand. "Just give me a chance to explain sweetheart."

Yaz's jaw clicks shut, as she takes her bottom lip between her teeth with a doubtful nod. 

"I thought someone was telling you what to write, it was the only explanation I could imagine. And when the job offer came, I thought... At least we'd be prisoners together. I tried to convince Sonya to stay home, but..." She snickers softly, the corner of her mouth twitching upwards. "Well, you know your sister. We arrived here, and I was so happy to see you again."

"But you looked different. Changed." Najia's gaze snaps away from the table, quietly meeting Yaz's. "It just confirmed what I thought, that those people did something to you. And you told us your life here was hard."

"Because I didn't want to fight." Yaz grumbles, the excuse earning her a shrug from her mother. 

"I didn't know that. I thought you didn't want to tell me about your new life because it was too painful. I met Missy that day. She..." Najia sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. "She said the Doctor brainwashed you."

Yaz crosses her arms, leaning back into her chair. "Why did you believe her?"

"Because Missy was the first person to be honest with me. She explained what Time Lords can do, how they can control someone with their telepathy. Did you know they can wipe off people's memories?" 

Yaz sighs, raising an unimpressed eyebrow.

"Sorry." Najia murmurs, shaking her head. "Missy told me who the Doctor really is, that she manipulated you to make sure you would like her. And when I saw you again a few days later, you completely changed your mind. You said you love living here." She pauses. "I had to get you away, Yaz. I couldn't imagine my daughter spending her whole life chained up to a monster."

"You realize you're the one who was manipulated, yes?" The younger woman interrupts, her patience running thin. "Missy knew about your prejudice against Time Lords, and she used it to get into your head." 

Najia blows out a slow breath. "I know you think she's lying. But what if she's right?" 

"Stop." Yaz narrows her eyes, the last thread of her self-control snapping. "Do you know who told Missy you hate Time Lords?" 

Najia frowns silently, as her daughter answers her own, rhetorical question. 

"I think she got it from me. I came here thinking they were all monsters. All of them, including the Doctor. Did you know we had a fight because she was too nice to me?" 

Blinking through a wave of confusion, Najia shakes her head slowly. 

"She makes me tea every morning, and I used to be mad about it because it was ruining my image of her people. Except, she's nothing like other Time Lords." Yaz hesitates, allowing a hint of the anger bubbling in her chest to show. "The Doctor would never brainwash me - or anyone else - and you would know that, if you tried talking to her before deciding murder was your best option." 

Leaning her elbows on the table, Yaz dips her head to meet Najia's widened pupils. "I don't think Missy was lying, I _know_ she was. And I'm done trying to convince you of how real my marriage is. Either you don't believe me, and you need to leave. Or you do, and..." She frowns, uncertain. "Well, I'm not sure what happens next."

Najia nods distractedly. Her own fate doesn't bother her as much as the fiery spark in Yaz's eyes "You're angry."

"How would you react, if someone tried to kill dad?" Yaz snaps, gritting her teeth together. 

"That's not the sa..."

"It's exactly the same!" She interrupts, voice swelling. "I'm in love with the Doctor, she's my wife. And you tried to..." Yaz blinks through a wave of tearful frustration. "You tried to kill her." 

Najia forces herself to remember the vivid image of her daughter clutching an unconscious Time Lord against her. Nothing about the note of desperation in Yaz's voice, or the tender way she brushed blond hair away from the Doctor's face could have been faked. "Would it help, if I apologized?" 

"Not really." Yaz says softly, realizing the knot of anger weighing heavily in her chest burns too bright for the conversation. "I don't trust you. I don't think I'll ever be able to trust you again. But you're still my mother, and I want to forgive you." Pushing herself out of her seat, she anchors her palms against the table. "I just need a bit more time." 

The faint approval Najia murmurs in answer falls flat against the vivid emotions rushing through Yaz's head. She pads back to the entrance, hovering near the doorway. "I want to forgive you." She repeats, in a whisper. "But if you hurt the Doctor again, we're done." 

The sad nod the older woman offers as silent reply is lost, the noise of Yaz's footsteps already muffled by the door closing behind her back.

***************

Yaz sinks deeper into the sofa, nibbling at the side of her thumb. Newly returned restless energy makes her right foot bounce against the floor, an unseeing brown gaze scanning through the book resting on her opposite thigh. 

When the front door eases opened, Yaz throws the paperback to the side and springs to her feet. "Are you okay?" She asks hastily, wringing her hands together. "Did she hurt you?" Coming to a stop once she's facing the Doctor, she watches the woman hang her coat on the top of a nearby cabinet. 

"I'm fine." The blond waves a hand around, raising her head to catch Yaz's concerned gaze. "What's wrong?" 

"Nothing!" She denies, sighing at the Doctor's single raised eyebrow. "I talked to my mum. She said Missy told her you and her are best enemies, and I just..." She huffs. "Thought maybe you needed help." 

"Best enemies." The Time Lord repeats, rolling her eyes. "And _I'm_ the dramatic one." 

"What?" Yaz frowns.

"Doesn't matter." The Doctor smiles, opening her arms. "Come here." 

Yaz hesitates, resisting the tempting offer. "Wait, no. You're inju..."

"Look!" She raises a finger, rolling up her shirts to display smooth, pale skin. 

Yaz frowns, stepping closer to touch the faded spots of blueish black that were littering the Doctor’s upper body. "What..." She blinks, confused. 

"Can I give you a hug now?" The Doctor interrupts, shivering under the ghost sensation of Yaz's fingers trailing down her stomach. 

"Please." Yaz breathes out, slumping into an eager embrace. She rests her head on the blond's shoulder, arms slung low on her back. Squeezing heartily, she closes her eyes and narrows her thoughts to the familiar scent of coconut shampoo. 

"How did you heal so fast?" She whispers, once she's done soaking up the warm comfort of the embrace. The tip of her fingers trace gentle circles along the Doctor's back, feeling the gentle up-and-down motions of her breathing. 

"Quick healing, one of the perks of being a Time Lord." She shrugs.

"That, and telepathy." Yaz teases with the hint of a smirk. The Doctor’s body stiffens against her, before she moves back. 

"How do you know?" 

"My parents told me." She explains with a one shouldered-shrug. "About a week ago, back when I went to talk to them, after that night out with my work mates." 

The Doctor considers the answer, confused. "But you didn't ask." She states, voice lilting on the last word. 

"I know you don't like talking about your people." Yaz shrugs again. "It wasn't important back then, but..." Slipping her left arm away from the Doctor's waist, she tugs her sleeve up and points to her golden bracelet. "This happened, and I have questions ab..."

"Don't know what you mean." The Doctor hesitates, cupping the back of Yaz’s wrist to trace Gallifreyan characters with the tip of her thumb. "What happened?" 

"Well, you..." Yaz stumbles. "You called for my help."

"When?" The Doctor shakes her head, blinking. "I don't understand."

"When you were poisoned!" Yaz answers, matching the other woman's confusion. "It started like a panic attack, while I was in the middle of sparring with Ryan. My heart was beating really fast, and it felt like I couldn't breathe. Then my wrist started to burn, Ryan checked my bracelet, realized it was glowing, and he said it was your fear I c..."

"My fear you were feeling." The Doctor guesses, tilting her head. "Probably was, but it doesn't make any sense. It can't be..." She falls quiet, lost among her racing thoughts.

Yaz pauses, concerned by the mix of puzzlement and uncertainty flashing on the Doctor's features. "Come on." She says, reaching for her wife's hand as she returns to the front room and takes a seat on the couch. 

"What's wrong?" Yaz prompts when the Doctor settles at her side, her thumb rubbing soothing patterns on cold knuckles. 

"It's not possible." The Time Lord murmurs, frowning to herself until gentle hands frame her face. She turns to find an intrigued chestnut gaze observing her. 

"What's not possible?" 

"We can't be..." She swallows audibly, shaking her head. "The only way you could feel my emotions, is if there was a psychic link between us." 

"Right." Yaz blinks, caught off-guard. "And there isn't one." 

"There can't be a psychic link between a Time Lord and a human. It's impossible." She explains.

"Why not?"

"Think of it as a... A tunnel, that connects two consenting minds together. When the people at the opposite ends of the tunnel are trained in telepathy, it's easy. Their minds are like..." The Doctor pauses, before snapping her fingers. "Like sand! Building the link takes time, but it's easy to dig through. Creating a psychic link with a human is like trying to dig through a rock."

"Oi!" Yaz frowns. 

"Sorry." The Doctor brushes an apologetic kiss to the palm cradling her cheek. "I mean you have no telepathic abilities. Expecting you to notice a shift in my emotions, when I'm here and you're outside sparring with Ryan, would be like asking you to fly."

"What's the bracelet for then?" The dark haired woman wonders, eyes drifting to the shiny metal catching the dimmed sunlight. 

"It harvests the link between two Time Lords." The Doctor replies. "Think of it as a mental switch. When you want to be alone in your head, you take it off."

"But why did we need one?" Yaz clarifies, shaking her head. "And what happened yesterday?" 

"We didn't, it's just part of the wedding ceremony. Very attached to traditions, Time Lords." She responds distractedly, her mind already considering a string of different hypothesis to answer Yaz's second question. 

The Doctor purses her lips as she realizes the quickest way to solve the enigma. "Will you let me... Check?" She asks tentatively, pointing at Yaz's head. 

"Check..." The younger woman repeats slowly. "You mean in my head?" 

"Yes." She says as she stifles the urge to ramble and explain the request. 

"Sure." Yaz shrugs, nodding. "Do what you need to, I want to understand what happened." 

"Yaz, that's..." The Doctor frowns at the easy acceptance. "Are you sure? It's personal, allowing someone to dive into your head."

Yaz smiles, leaning forwards to kiss the tip of the Doctor's nose. "I'm not allowing _someone_ , I'm allowing you. How does it work?"

"Well, it's better if you're sleeping. I don't want to give you a headache." 

Yaz hesitates, unhappy. "We have to wait for tonig..."

"Nah, I can help with that too. Just imagine being asleep." At Yaz's puzzled look, the Doctor continues. "Close your eyes, and picture yourself asleep. I'll do the rest." 

Nodding, the dark haired woman settles against the sofa's fluffy cushion, throws her head back and closes her eyes. She forces her mind to build an image of herself in bed, soft blankets tucked against her shoulders, and a pillow under her neck. 

Quiet seconds tick by, the edges of her mental picture losing their sharpness, as it blurs into a mess of black, grey and white. Yaz feels the grip she has on her conscious thoughts loosen, until she falls and her world fades into black.

***************

"Open your eyes." 

The Doctor's whisper makes Yaz's eyelids flutter opened, and she looks around to realize she's laying on a mattress. The comforter thrown over her, the pillow she catches a glimpse of, and the dark atmosphere of their now-shared bedroom match every detail of her mental image. 

"What... Are you done?" 

"We're in your head." The Doctor grins, drawing Yaz's attention to her wife who's now clad in her favorite pajamas. "Dressed for the occasion. I thought you might want to be aware of what's going on." 

Blinking, Yaz looks around the perfect replica of the bed. "You mean, you solved it? You know what happened to us?" 

"Hm." The Time Lord hums. "Been poking around a bit. Don't worry, I didn't snoop."

"What did you find?" She presses, eager to find answers to her questions. 

"Right, so remember when I compared your mind to a rock?"

Yaz glares in warning, waiting for the Doctor to elaborate. 

"Wasn't the best analogy, I'll admit. I didn't really mean a rock, it's more like a bubble. Or an egg, or a ballo..." She pauses, snapping her fingers. "Oh, I know. Think of it as a snow globe." 

Yaz's eyebrows knit together. "In English, please." 

"There's a first layer of protection around your brain, like in all non-telepathic species." The Doctor starts over, hands flying to punctuate her words. "It works like the glass of the snow globe, or like the shell of an e..."

"I don't think I can handle any more comparisons." Yaz stops her, rubbing her forehead. 

"Sorry" The Doctor grins, sheepish. "If I tried to create a psychic link between us, it would be like drilling a hole in the glass of a snow globe. The layer of protection might collapse."

"Might?" Yaz repeats, curious. 

The Doctor shrugs. "I don't know for sure. Time Lord science isn't too interested in human biology. I don't think anyone tested it."

The younger woman rolls her eyes, moving to more pressing matters. "I get it. But what happened yesterday? Why could I feel your fear, if my brain is hidden behind a shell?" 

"Because Time Lords are highly telepathic." The Doctor says softly, gulping. "And because I was dying."

Yaz breath catches in her throat as she shuffles to the side and pokes the Doctor's shoulder. "Can I touch you?"

"As much as you could touch me in a dream. It will feel real to you." 

"But can you feel it?" 

"Yes." The quick answer is enough reassurance for Yaz, who slips under the blond's raised arm and rests her head against her chest. The noise of twin heartbeats settles her thoughts, as the Doctor nuzzles against her ear. 

Squeezing her arms around her wife, the Time Lord brushes a kiss against her hairline and soaks up the mixed scent of lemon and honey, before picking up her reasoning. "My best guess is that my mind reached out to you." 

"Why?" Yaz's voice drops to a faint murmur. 

"I was scared. Proper terrified. I was sure I was about to die, and I wanted you with me because you make me feel safe."

With a quick intake of breath, hazel eyes drift further into the darkness of the room. "So, I reached out to you. Not consciously, mind you. I wouldn't risk hurting you like tha..."

"Doctor." Yaz interrupts sternly and raises her head. "If you're dying, I want to know. Stop worrying about giving me a headache." 

"Right." The blond swallows heavily. "I'll try not to get poisoned too often then." 

Yaz offers a reluctant smile - bit too soon for joking - settling back into place and burying her nose against the Doctor’s neck. 

"When I reached out, it knocked against your head, like when you turn a snow globe upside down. I'm assuming it was powerful enough for you to feel the ripple effect." The Doctor describes. "Powerful enough to make your own thoughts and emotions swirl around, that's what activated your bracelet." 

"So, we're linked now?" Yaz prompts, careful to keep the earnestness from seeping into her voice.

"Nope. There aren't any permanent damages. Don't worry, I checked." 

"Ah." Yaz nods, frowning as she ignores the distinct sensation of disappointment dropping in her stomach. 

"Wait, what..." The Doctor hesitates in the sudden, lingering silence. "Did you want us to be linked?" 

The instinctive denial at the tip of her tongue is lost, when shining hazel eyes stare quietly at Yaz. "I don't know." She replies truthfully. "I'm curious. And you said you’re highly telepathic. I don't want you to feel..." She pauses, doing her best to keep her tone casual. "Like you're missing on something because you married a human."

It's the Doctor's turn to raise to her elbows, abruptly dislodging Yaz from her resting spot. Surprised, the younger woman blinks and glances up, laying on her side.

"What could I possibly be missing?" The Doctor speaks, nose scrunched. "You’re my best friend, and we’re married, and I’m in love with you. I don’t need telepathy to know you're amazing. You're so kind, Yaz. I think it's my favo..."

Yaz freezes, her heart pounding against her ribs. She runs her tongue over her bottom lip, battling the wide grin that's twitching at the corner of her mouth. 

"... and you're clever. You always have the best ideas, I don't know what I w..."

"All right, sorry." Yaz kick-starts her brain when she catches up with the Doctor's rant. "I didn't mean to... Sorry." 

The Doctor nods, satisfied. What a ridiculous thought, why shouldn't she be the happiest w...

"I love you too." Yaz adds in a whisper, watching the Doctor's eyes grow wide when her head catches up with her mouth. 

The blond clears her throat, glancing to the side. She spots the twinkle of amusement brightening her wife's deep brown pupils, and grins back. "Good. Great. Glad that's settled." She leans down and presses her lips against Yaz's in a kiss that lingers. 

"Now, Yasmin Khan..." The Doctor starts, dazzling smile clinging to her lips. "I can't turn you into a telepath."

The warning draws a silent sigh from the younger woman, before the Doctor continues. 

"But I can poke around a little, see what we can do." She frowns. "Don't expect me to drill a hole into a snow globe though. I won't put you in danger." 

Yaz laughs quietly, nodding. "Of course not." 

"But we can definitely experiment. It's going to be fun!" 

Yaz dips her head, hands bunched in the collar of the Doctor's sleep shirt. She ghosts the tip of her nose along a sharp jawline, pressing mirroring smiles together when she reaches her mouth. They kiss, teeth clashing together in an uncharacteristically clumsy mess. 

"How about we try that again when you're awake?" 

"Hm." Yaz hums, her brain not registering the Time Lord's question as she tilts her head to chase her lips. 

"Eh, taking that as a yes." 

Yaz blinks, her world slowly fading away before she realizes what's happening.

***************

When Yaz opens her eyes again, she's laying on her back on a sofa, head on the Doctor's lap as the woman meticulously cards through thick, chestnut tresses. 

The soothing touch pulls Yaz closer to the tempting grip of slumber, before she hums low in her throat and draws the Doctor's attention. 

"You're awake! Anything hurts?" She prompts quickly, her fingers shifting to a more assessing touch, traveling around Yaz's head. "Headache? Nausea?" 

"No, and no." Yaz responds, her voice rougher than anticipated. "What happened?" 

"My mistake. I went out of your head a little too fast." The Doctor says, nose scrunched. "That's why we're going very slow, if you let me into your head again." 

"Of course I will." Yaz muffles a yawn against the palm of her hand. "No snow globe analogy?" She teases gently. 

"Well, I gave it another good shake." The Doctor grimaces. "Sorry." 

"You can make it up to me at dinner." She suddenly remembers, glancing at the old fashion clock in the middle of the front room. "We need a plan to get the truth out of R..."

"I can't." The Doctor interjects, gulping under the weight of Yaz's curious frown. "Be at dinner. I have a thing... A meeting." She covers up, ignoring the bribes of guilt wringing themselves together in her stomach. "For work." 

Brain still foggy, Yaz relents with an unhappy sigh.

"Can make it up to you now though." 

Shaking her head, Yaz laughs when she sees the Doctor wriggle her eyebrows. Slowly, she reaches up and cups the back of her neck, fingers tangled into soft baby curls. 

“Better get started.” Yaz grins against her mouth, losing track of time, as the Doctor closes the distance and nips at her bottom lip. 

Dinner can wait. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone reading/kudo-ing/leaving comments!!


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today’s update is pretty long (again), I’ll be going back to normal length chapters next week :-P

"I can't believe you're dating Ryan." Yaz complains, holding the outside door opened for Sonya to slip through. "Ryan! It's going to be so awkward if you break up." 

"And I can't believe you were an hour late for dinner." Sonya rolls her eyes, climbing through the first marble steps in the hall of the castle. "There's nothing to break up, we're dating. We can't all be boringly married." 

"It's not boring." Yaz's frown deepens, as she follows in her sister's footsteps. "Hold on, is that supposed to make me feel better? I don't want you snogging my mates, I think it's reasona..." 

The last word is muffled under the noise of the door slamming opened again, a gust of cold, wet wind swirling through the high ceiling. At the top of the stairs, Sonya and Yaz turn on their heels, facing the entrance with identical, curious looks. 

"Did you see her face?" Missy's gleeful voice echoes through the empty space. "Under the light of the burning fire, it was delicious. Last time I had so much fun was when we put glue on Rassilon's perigosto stick."

"We? There was no we. You did it, before you told everyone it was _me_. Was in trouble for a week." The Doctor mutters, glaring at her friend. "And how was I supposed to see her face from under that bloody skimmer? Why am I always the one jumping in cold water?" 

"Because I'm clearly the smart one, dear. Smart people don't jump into lakes." Missy replies, pulling the door shut and throwing a bundle tucked under her arm to the Doctor. "Put that on and be quiet."

"It's cold." She insists and slips into her own coat. Burying her nose against the collar, she tugs the material over her soaked clothes. 

"I know. You started complaining in the harbor and didn't stop until we reached the gates. You'd think running halfway through the city would shut you up." 

The Doctor rolls her eyes, ignoring the quip. "Fat chance." She says with the hint of a smirk. "They'll be talking about tonight for months. How's that for gossip?" 

Missy snickers, elbowing the Time Lord. "Think it will stop them from talki..." The next words morph into a sigh when she spots the two silent bystanders at the top of the stairs. "Oh, great. The boring one.

Following her friend's gaze, the Doctor freezes when she notices Yaz and Sonya. She clears her throat and throws back the blond fringe dripping in her eyes, before raising her hand in an awkward wave. "Hi."

Her brown irises darting between the Doctor and Missy, Yaz frowns. "You said you had a meeting." 

"We did!" The Doctor justifies, pursing her lips.

"A meeting, at the harbor?" Yaz raises an unimpressed eyebrow at her wife's nod. "That involved diving into a lake."

"Yes?" The Doctor hesitates, forcing an uncertain grin. 

"And the fire?" 

"I didn't mean to start a fire." She mumbles, pausing under Yaz's quiet glare. "Maybe a small one. But I really didn't mean to blow up the boat, that wire just slipped through my fingers. It was _cold_ , Yaz." 

Pinching the bridge of her nose, the younger woman sighs, battling her own amusement at the Doctor's antics. "Why would you blow up a boat?" 

"For fun." Missy interrupts, bouncing through the stairs. "Not that you understand what fun is." 

Yaz's breathing catches in her throat as she waits for Missy to approach her. Flattening her hands against her thighs, she ignores the taunting and narrows her thoughts to the anger bubbling in her stomach. "You think killing people is fun." She accuses, with a steely edge to her tone. 

"Yes." Missy tilts her head. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"Yes." Yaz pauses and inhales sharply, swallowing the knot of nervous apprehension tightening her throat. "But maybe you're right. I should try it." She continues with a pointed look.

"Is that a threat?" Missy asks, a touch of dry humor coloring her question. "Are you threatening me, poppet?" 

"Yes." Yaz doesn't back down, holding the Time Lady's stare. 

"I'm so scared." She snickers, her smile growing. "What are you going to do, lecture me to death?" 

"Medicate you to death. I've heard there's a certain sort of pills you can't handle." 

Missy's smirk is wiped from her mouth. "You wouldn't."

"Maybe I would. How would you know? I reckon you should start keeping a closer eye on your food."

Scowling, Missy jumps over the last step and prowls closer to Yaz. "And you should be very careful who you make an enemy of."

Sonya blinks, her wide pupils flickering between Missy and her sister. Turning her head to catch the Doctor's stunned gaze, she frowns when the blond clicks her jaw shut in obvious bewilderment. 

"Well, do something." Sonya whispers, her teeth clenched. 

"Yes! Right, doing something." The Doctor nods, springing forwards to nudge her way between Yaz and Missy. She turns her back to her friend, facing Yaz with her hands raised in a peace-seeking gesture. "I get it, you're angry. But let's calm down and talk ab..."

"She's the murderer, and I have to calm down." Yaz repeats, frowning as she watches Missy's smirk over the Doctor's shoulder. 

"Well, you're the only reasonable adult in this conversation." 

"Oi!" Missy interjects, the self-satisfied smile fading from her face. "What are you saying?"

"You were bragging about _attempted murder_ being your favorite form of communication an hour ago." The Doctor glances back, unimpressed. "You're a lunatic." 

"You really need to learn how to let go, Doctor Grudges." Missy replies, unfazed. "I'm worried for you, you kn..."

"Where is she?"

The four women gathered on the highest marble step startle. Their attention snap to the opened gates of the castle where a woman dressed in black stands, red hair glistening under the dimmed moonlight, fists on her hips and her voice swelling in the sudden silence. 

"I said, where i..." The rest of the scream is held back by the woman's gritted teeth as her gaze falls on the pairs of eyes staring back at her. "Do you think you're funny?" 

The Doctor sighs, blowing away a strand of wet hair sticking to her forehead. "Rani." She replies back, careful to keep her tone steady. "Can I help you with something?" 

"Can you..." The Rani groans as she marches through the stairs, coming to a stop in front of the Doctor. She ignores the rest of the group, eyes shining in anger. "Do you understand how hard I had to work, to have that boat delivered to the city?" 

The Doctor shrugs. "I don't know which boat you're talking ab..."

"The one you dove into the lake to re-wire, the one that burst into flames twenty minutes ago." She interrupts, stalking forwards as the Doctor backs away until she hits a stoned wall. The Rani reaches down, thumb tracing the collar of a dark blue sweater. "Or did you take a shower with your clothes on?" Punctuating the question with a wave of her now-wet thumb, she wipes the water against black trousers. 

"Maybe I felt like going swimming." 

"You do understand my skimmer is ruined now, yes? That I'll have to wait another year until I can try to build my own."

"Think you'll live." The Doctor says, her calm answer a stark contrast to the Rani's boiling exasperation. "And it was funny." 

"Funny?" She repeats, eyebrows raised. "What if I think killing you is funny?" 

"You're so predictable." The Doctor fires back. "How long have you been looking for an excuse?" 

Fury swelling in the Rani's chest, she reaches forwards and grips into the lapel of a grey, rainbow-lined coat "I'll show you predicta..."

A muted click answers the menacing whisper, echoing loudly in the tense silence as both the Doctor and the Rani trace the source of the noise back to Missy's left hand. Cold metal cradled in her palm, she's glaring at the intruder.

"And _I_ will show you the best way to make your problems just... Shrink away." Missy drawls, with the hint of a smirk. 

"What? Are you going to kill me?" The Rani laughs, rolling her eyes before she glances back to the Doctor. "Will you take the blame for that one too?" 

The blond's jaw slacks opened, the panic-stricken look she exchanges with Missy not escaping the other Time Lord's attention. 

"You two think you're so clever." The Rani shakes her head, contempt dripping from her quiet words. "Did you really believe anyone would think you murdered Rassilon to take his place? You're a coward, Doctor. You couldn't kill anyone, even if you own life depended on it." 

"And you..." She turns to Missy, ignoring the weapon still glued to the side of her head. "I'm impressed you understand how tissue compression works. Congratulations, you might not be a lost cause." Stepping back, she loosens her grip on the Doctor. "But you should get better friends."

The bitter remark falls heavily in the strained atmosphere, before the Rani twirls on her heels. The fading click of her boots against the floor is the only noise disturbing the heavy silence until the door slams closed behind her. 

Quiet seconds tick by, Sonya's nervous hold on her sister's wrist slowly slackening. Yaz glances to the younger woman, their gazes meeting in a moment of muted understanding, while both of their heartbeat settles back into its regular rhythm. 

Missy blinks, eyes flickering between the entrance and the Doctor who's still backed against the wall. "This is..."

"A problem. Yeah." Her friend nods, scratching the back of her neck. 

"A problem for another day." Yaz interjects, making her way to the Doctor to wrap a solid hand around her wrist. "Come on." 

The Time Lord allows the movement, waving over her shoulder to a still shocked Missy. The gesture earns her a distracted nod, as she catches sight of another shadow trailing after them in the deserted hallway. 

"Yaz?" The Doctor chances, still a few steps behind her wife who has a firm hold on her wrist. She glances behind them again and drops her voice. "Why is your sister following us?" 

"My... What?" Yaz stops, sighing when the Doctor doesn't notice and stumbles into her. She reaches forwards with a steadying hand on the blond's shoulder, before sticking her head to the side to watch her sister's purposeful approach. 

"Everything all right, Son?" Yaz asks, puzzled. 

"I'm not here to talk to you." Sonya crosses her arms and steps into the Doctor's personal space, repressing a smile when she instinctively inches backwards. 

"What..." The Doctor trails off and groans when she hits the wall behind her, exasperated by the sudden onslaught of people trying to intimidate her. "Can I help you?" 

"Listen up, you bloody idiot. I'm n..."

"Oi!" The Doctor protests, her offended objection buried under Yaz's pressing tone.

"Sonya, what do you want?" 

Sonya ignores the question, standing tall in front of the Doctor. "For some reason I can't understand, my sister loves you. And she would be sad, if something happened to you."

The Doctor's eyelids flutter in confusion as she wonders where the little speech is heading.

"And I don't like seeing my sister sad." Sonya continues with another step forwards. Back into the Doctor's space, she pokes the sharp nail of her index through a soaked coat. "So you better stop trying to get yourself killed."

The Doctor reviews the words in her head, scrambling for a reply that would satisfy Sonya. 

"Understood?" She snaps, when silence lingers for too long. 

"Yes." The Doctor squeaks, nodding emphatically. "Sure, yes. Understood." 

Sonya doesn't budge, holding a green-brown stare with a steely expression of her own. "Good." She eventually relents, eyeing Yaz with a satisfied smile. "You can thank me later." She adds, strolling passed her sister to return to the Khan's family quarters. 

Yaz blows out a long, noisy breath, more annoyed than relieved. She can handle her relationship on her own, she doesn't need Sonya's interference to talk to the Doctor. "Sorry about that." She grumbles, glancing to the frozen Time Lord. "I don't know why she did it."

"Right." The Doctor clears her throat. "Home then?" Yaz nods, and they fall into step, wandering quietly through the deserted castle. 

***************

"One day." Yaz mutters, rummaging through the Doctor's closet while the woman observes her from the room's doorway. "Just one day off." She repeats and throws a star-littered jumper over her shoulder. The piece of clothing lands on the bed, drawing an intrigued emerald gaze in its direction. "That's all I asked for." 

"Why are you throwing clothes?" 

"Because you can't sleep wearing that, can you?" Yaz replies, mutely gesturing to the Doctor's soaked trousers and to the growing puddle under her boots. 

"I can take care of mys..."

"Clearly not." She interrupts, finding the checkered pajama bottom she was looking for. "And you would drag water everywhere. Put that on, I'll be back." Yaz says, turning her back to the Doctor as she strides to her own closet, in what used to be her bedroom. 

Confused, the Doctor blinks but complies with the instructions, shimmering out of her soggy shirts. She tugs the dry jumper over her upper-body, a sigh of relief falling from her mouth when the warm, soft material touches her skin. 

The Doctor rarely gets cold, but she hates when the sensation seeps through her clothes and settles in her bones, leaving her shivering for hours. With an unhappy scrunch of her nose, she slips between sheets, pulls the comforter up to her shoulders and links her hands over her stomach, waiting for Yaz's return. 

Her wife marches through the doorway a few seconds later, eyebrows knitted together as she fidgets with the string at the waist of her own pajama. Yaz slides under the cover at the Doctor's side and rests her head on a fluffy pillow, laying on her back with her arms crossed.

The Doctor clears her throat, hyper-aware of the lengthening silence that blankets the room. Yaz doesn't budge, her gaze firmly glued to the ceiling. "You're angry." She states, quietly. 

Yaz's answering, non-committal hum doesn't help the Doctor. She frowns, mentally sorting through the events of the day. "Is it because I lied?" She asks tentatively, the hint of guilt she felt earlier emerging from her memory. 

"What?" Yaz wonders, surprised. 

"Well, I told you I had a meeting for work tonight. It wasn't tr..."

"You asked me five different times if I was okay with you missing dinner." Yaz rolls her eyes, glancing to the side. "I knew you weren't going to work, Doctor." 

"Then what's wr..."

"You dove into the lake!" Yaz snaps, throwing her hands in the air. "Not even a day after you almost died. And you made the Rani angry, how many people will you rile up until they want to kill you?"

"She wants to kill me since our graduation party from the Academy." The Doctor points out, calmly. "She showed up with a giant rat." 

"What?" 

"A giant rat, Yaz. I had to do something, she was running experiments. Kidnapped him, called him Jonathan and set him loose." The Doctor explains, scrunching her nose. "How was I supposed to know Jonathan would bite Rassilon's cat? Then he attacked Missy, and she didn't speak to me for a month." 

"I don't..." Yaz pinches the bridge of her nose and shakes her head, memories of her own meeting with the unhinged Time Lord flooding her brain. "Okay, fine. The Rani is insane." She hesitates, distracted from her initial worry. "How much trouble can she cause us?" 

"Hard to say." The Doctor shakes her head, warmth flooding through her hearts at Yaz's casual question. She's never been part of an "us" before. "She's not very good at holding grudges, always get distracted by some creepy experiments." 

Yaz nods, tucking the information in a corner of her brain. "Fine. But the rest still stands, why would you jump into cold water?"

"Because the skimmer was too far from the docks." The Doctor replies, her voice filled with genuine confusion. "Why else?" 

"Of course." The innocent, earnest response draws a quiet sigh out of Yaz as she feels the tension knotting her shoulders ease against the soft mattress. She allows the fond smile twitching at the corner of her lips to blossom. Turning on her side, Yaz tucks a folded arm under her cheek as she regards her wife with wary affection. 

"I don't know why I'm asking, why else?" 

The Doctor offers a tentative smile, sensing the shift in the stiff atmosphere. "Is that it? You didn't like that I jumped in the lake." 

Yaz blinks, reaching up to cup the Doctor's cheek with a gentle hand. "Sonya is right. I wish you would take better care of yourself, is all. I get worried about you." 

The whispered words make the Time Lord's stomach drops, heavy with a vague feeling of guilt. The last thing she wants is to have Yaz worry over her. "I'm sorry. I'm fine though, I'm always fine. You don't have t..." 

"Yes, I do." Yaz interrupts, shrugging. "I don't think it's something I can help." 

The Doctor frowns, considering the new information. "I'll try." She promises, matching Yaz’s quiet tone. "To be more careful. But there's nothing I can do about the Rani." 

"Thank you." She leans up, brushing her lips under the Doctor's jaw. "It was weird, watching Missy stand up for you like that." Yaz remarks, thoughts drifting to the Rani's threats. 

The Doctor musters a smile, turning on her side to face Yaz. "We're good now. I talked to her." 

Frowning, the dark haired woman hesitates. "You can't just... Work out a murder attempt. How can you trust that she won't do it again?" 

"I can't. Don't remember the last time I trusted Missy, it was long ago." The Doctor shakes her head. "But we should be good for a while, and she's scared of you now." She teases with a grin, watching Yaz's cheeks flush in embarrassment. "What was that about?" 

"I don't know." She mumbles, her fleeting gaze scanning the room. "I wasn't planning on saying anything." Yaz pauses when a soft touch frames her face, guiding her eyes back to hazel irises glowing in the dark. 

"Thank you." The Doctor inches closer, her lips finding Yaz's in a lingering kiss. "For caring." Moving back, she holds a pleased chestnut gaze. "But there are ways to go against Missy, and direct confrontation is not one of them. You have to meet her on her playing field."

"Which is?" 

"Twisted plans she won't see coming. I'll help, if it's revenge you want." The Doctor offers, halfheartedly. "But I'd rather you didn't. I don't think she'll be a problem." 

Yaz nods to herself, remembering her clammy palms and racing heartbeat, as she held her own against the Time Lady. "It's fine." She shakes her head, sighing. "If you think she's not a threat anymore."

The Doctor shakes her head, grinning. "Thanks."

"She killed Rassilon." Yaz remembers, eyes growing wide as bribes of conversation come to the surface of her mind in the stretching moment of quiet. 

"Yeah."

"Why?" She asks, confused.

"Told you, twisted plan nobody saw coming. She probably got bored." 

Yaz gnaws at her bottom lip, concerned over how volatile Missy's state of mind seems to be. "Are you going to report it?" 

"There's nothing I can do." The Doctor grumbles. "I told people I did it, remember? If I speak up, we're both going to be banished. Or sent to prison." 

"I don't like it."

"You didn't even know Rassilon." The Doctor points out, intrigued by the hint of resentment behind Yaz's statement. "Why are you so hung up on Missy?"

Caught off-guard, Yaz pauses and ignores the growing awkwardness that colors the lingering silence. She gulps, a shaky sigh spilling from her mouth as she words her concern.

"Because if what happened to you isn't her fault, then it's my mum's fault." She murmurs, ignoring the sting of tears. "My own mother is a killer, and I don't... I let it happen." 

The clumsy explanation freezes the Doctor for a split-second, before she hooks a finger under Yaz's chin, tilting her head up. 

"None of it is your fault."

"I should have stood up for you, when sh..."

"Yaz." 

There's a note of steel in the Doctor's voice that turns the objection sticky at the back of Yaz’s throat. 

"Nobody has ever protected me the way you do. How many times did you tell your mum she was wrong?" 

Yaz's thoughts race, images of multiple arguments she had with Najia flashing through her mind. 

"Exactly. 

"It doesn't change anything." Yaz argues, fighting against the hint of relief lightening her mood. "My mum is still a monster." 

"Is she?" The Doctor pushes, gently. "She was trying to protect you."

"From a threat that doesn't exist. You wouldn't hurt me." Yaz protests, throwing an arm over her eyes. She squeezes them shut and ignores the throbbing ache growing against her temples.

"No, I know." The Time Lord agrees, propping herself on an elbow. "But she didn't. Killing to protect someone you love doesn't make you a monster." 

Yaz scrambles to follow the Doctor's reasoning, frowning. "So, you... What, forgive her?" 

"What's the other option?" She shrugs. "Besides hating your mum until everyone is miserable." 

Yaz swallows audibly, a slow intake of breath easing the tight sensation of pressure in her chest. Maybe the Doctor is right. Maybe she should just forgive Najia and move on with their li...

A sudden picture of her wife's skin littered with colorful bruises flashes through Yaz's mind, derailing her train of thoughts. She grinds her teeth together, battling the renewed flow of anger coursing through her veins. 

"Hey." The Doctor interrupts Yaz's inner conflict, soft fingers tracing her features in a touch that anchors the dark haired woman to the moment. "Doesn't mean you have to forgive her right away. Or ever, really. She's your mum."

"But I should be able to..." She trails off, crossing her arms as her voice takes a plaintive edge. "You can do it, and you're the one who almost died." 

"Yes. But she's not family to me." The Doctor reminds her, softly. "Besides, I have to be civil. Work would be really awkward, if I didn't." She frowns to herself. "Might still be awkward. What I'm trying to say, is give yourself time. You'll get to a place you're comfortable with."

"How do you know?" Yaz insists, lowering her arm to look at the Doctor. The patient smile waiting for her makes her lips twitch in a mirroring expression. 

"Because I trust you. You'll do what's right, when you're ready."

Yaz nods, the hint of doubt still coloring her memories put to rest for the night. Inhaling sharply, she reaches forwards to brush the Doctor's fringe away from her eyes. 

"Cuddle?" Yaz pleads quietly, glad to see a happy spark brightens hazel pupils in response. 

"Don't have to ask." The Time Lord agrees, shuffling to the side. She lays on her back, waiting for the familiar sensation of Yaz's arms wrapped around her upper body. The expected pressure comes with a head settling against her shoulder, as she brushes soft kisses against a mess of dark hair. 

Yaz hums in wordless reply, burrowing further into the comforting embrace. Deciding to let her concern about Najia - or about murderous Time Lords - go, she closes her eyes and focuses on the regular motions of the Doctor's fingers tracing random patterns across her back. 

Quiet minutes tick by to the rhythm of Yaz's deepened breathing, as the Doctor feels the coiled tension in her shoulders ease, her body relaxing into the mattress. She allows her eyelids to flutter shut and gives into the tempting pull of slumber, a last conscious thought registering in the background of her mind. 

She isn't cold anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you to every person who takes the time to read/kudo/comment on this story! It means a lot :-D


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter this week, I hope you enjoy 😄!

The first thing Yaz's brain registers when she emerges from slumber is the comforting scent of tea. Nose twitching, she blinks her eyes opened and rolls on her back, muffling a long yawn against her palm. 

Finding the opposite side of the bed empty, Yaz frowns. She looks at the bedside table and smiles when she spots the mug awaiting her, picking it up to sip the hot drink slowly. With a quiet hum, she reaches to put the tea back on the wooden surface, freezing in hesitation as a folded piece of paper catches her attention. 

_Woke up early to prepare for audiences. I made tea, but we're out of biscuits.  
How did that happen? I love biscuits, Yaz._

The Doctor's signature is scrawled in the bottom corner, along with a little sketch of a sad face and a miniature version of a human heart. Yaz shakes her head fondly, seizes the mug in her empty hand and heads for the kitchen. 

An hour later, clad in a fresh pair of dark trousers and a white buttoned-up shirt, Yaz inches a door opened to find her wife pacing through the back room. She clears her throat, drawing a startled hazel gaze in her direction. 

"Yaz!" The Doctor grins and moves closer, one hand falling to her hip as she leans in for a greeting kiss. 

"Hi." Yaz's arms shoot up, her fingers laced through growing blond hair as she holds the Doctor close for a lingering moment. "Will you make it through a day of biscuit withdrawal?" 

"Possibly. Things are looking up." She blinks lazily, nuzzling against dark skin. "Sorry I left early, I had to get everyone together." 

"Everyone?" Yaz repeats, intrigued.

"Hm. Have an announcement to make, I figured the quickest way was to set up a public event."

"I don't like crowds." Yaz frowns, fighting a smile when the Doctor tilts her head in concern. 

"Sorry, can't really do this without you." She apologizes, nose scrunched. 

There's an odd, mischievous spark twinkling in green-brown eyes that catches Yaz's attention. "What are you planning?" 

"You'll see." The Doctor replies, stretching her arm. "Ready?" 

Yaz's gaze flickers between the offered limb and the Doctor's face, puzzled. "You said there's a crowd."

"Yes."

"And you want us to..." Yaz trails off, indecisive. "Go together?"

"Yep." The Doctor grins, popping the word. "They saw us get married, it's not like they'll be surprised."

"Suppose not." She murmurs, with a sharp intake of breath. 

Yaz shifts closer, fingers settling in the crook of the Doctor's elbow as she returns a tight smile. Somehow, appearing at a public announcement at the Doctor's side seems different from the low-key events where they usually appear together, and she does her best to ignore the bubbling sensation in her stomach. "Ready." 

The Time Lord nods, pulling the door opened to gently guide Yaz forwards. They walk through the doorway, the familiar interior of the audience room settling the younger woman's nerves until she catches sight of the rows of benches lined up across the usually empty space. 

Benches filled with people, who are looking in their direction with varying degrees of curiosity 

Yaz gulps, fingers tightening her hold on the Doctor's elbow. She whispers an apology when she catches a answering wince from the corner of her eye, earning a discreet head shake. 

"You're fine." The Doctor whispers, dipping her head. "Just breathe, we're almost there." 

Yaz raises her gaze to find the stairs leading to the platform overlooking the crowd, breathing a sigh of relief as she makes her way to her usual seat. The Doctor stops a few steps short of her own place, winks in her wife's direction - and the woman has no business being so smooth when a roomful of people are staring at her, decides Yaz - and crosses her arms behind her back. 

The Doctor forces a deep breath into her lungs, gauging the general atmosphere... Satisfied by the mix of confusion, restlessness and a hint of morbid curiosity, she spares a grateful thought for the lack of interest in her entry at Yaz's side. 

"As you can see, I'm still alive." She starts, her voice echoing through the high ceilings. 

"Ah, really? I thought this was a funeral. Never been so disappointed."

A voice counters from the back of the room, leaving the Doctor pursing her lips to contain an exasperated eye roll. She waits quietly, watching Missy saunter down the red carpet dividing the rows of benches in two sections. 

"Sorry." Missy drawls. "Very sorry, am I late?" She circles the last cluster of seats, leaning close to a woman she doesn't recognize. "I'm the Consort, I'm allowed to be late." Bouncing up the stairs, she turns to smile wildly at Yaz's glare, before facing the Doctor. 

"Hello." 

"Always have to make an entrance, don't you?" The blond whispers, a hint of amusement warming her tone. 

"You love it." Missy argues and slips into her assigned chair on the opposite side of the platform. She tilts her head towards Yaz, catching the younger woman's gaze with another gleeful grin that earns her a half-hearted wave. 

Shaking her head, the Doctor redirects her attention to the quiet group of Time Lords not-so-patiently waiting. "I'm sure you all heard what happened to me." She pauses, scanning the room to see countless pairs of eyes still glued to her consort. Pursing her lips, the Doctor glances behind her shoulder with a slow-spreading smirk. 

"Well, you didn't hear everything. Maybe Missy could fill in the blanks." She suggests, watching her friend's pupils grow wide, distracted from her staring contest with Yaz. "Want to tell them what you did?" 

"Nothing." She denies reflexively, her voice raising. "It was a joke, I don't know why you're still going on about it." 

The Doctor rolls her eyes. "Because it almost killed me. Tell them." She repeats and motions to the crowd with a tilt of her head. 

"I thought - and I was right - it would be funny to prank the new steward. You know, a little initiation ceremony? Welcome to the Citadel." She explains, arms wide-spread as she strides closer to the edge of the platform until she's standing on the Doctor's left. 

"Oh, come on." Missy groans, facing the group of quietly unimpressed Time Lords. "Crack a smile, it was only poison. It's _funny._ " 

"Which one?" The Doctor prompts, drawing her friend's glare. She raises a challenging eyebrow and crosses her arms, waiting. "What poison did you give Najia to use?" 

Clearing her throat, Missy's pupils scans the rest of the room, faced with a mix of polite disinterest and growing restlessness. "Aspirin, maybe. I don't really remember." She explains, scratching her neck as a handful of still seconds tick by... 

Until the reply lands in the midst of mounting tension, forcing a good portion of bystanders to spring to their feet. "You did what?" A voice squeaks from the front row, and Missy falters. 

"It was only a tiny bit. I didn't know Doctor Idiot would actually drink th..."

Snapped out of vague amusement by the fierce reaction, the Doctor raises her arms. "There's nothing to worry about. I'm fine, and the stash of aspirin is gone. Missy didn't really want to kill me, so I'm letting everyone off the chain." 

"You're letting everyone off the _hook_." Missy corrects, annoyed. "Are you doing this on purpose?"

"I'm trying to save your life, can you shut up for five seconds?" 

The taller woman bites her lip and muffles a sarcastic reply, as a voice coming from the back of the room cuts into their bickering, taking advantage of the distraction. 

"Hold on." The Rani interjects, standing over her bench. "I don't care about the idiot's intentions. There's still a human in this city who knows how to kill us. We can't let her go."

"She's not going anywhere, she's the steward." The Doctor states, rolling her eyes. 

"Not what I meant, and you know it. She has to die." The Rani states, a murmur of faint approval traveling through the crowd. 

"Not happening."

"It's my mother you're talking about." Yaz adds, willing herself still as the general attention shifts to her for a split-second. 

"Again, I don't care. She's a human who could kill us all."

The Doctor runs a palm down her face, exasperated. "She won't. It's me she has a problem with, and it's personal. Why are you obsessed with death?" 

"Because I care about protecting our people. I care more than you, obviously." The Rani's response gains another whisper of assent, growing in intensity. 

"Enough." The Doctor stands, her patience running thin. "What do you think will happen, if I listen to you? I kill Najia, then I have to kill her husband because maybe she told him. And then what?" She continues, pacing through the platform. "Do I kill Sonya too, just in case? What about Yaz? She knows, do you expect me to kill my wife?"

Yaz breathes slowly through her nose, scanning the crowd. The heavy atmosphere simmers with every word of the Doctor's speech, but a few, scattered people slowly sink back into their seat, eyes turned to the ground and arms folded over their chest. 

"The guards who found me after it happened know, they could have told their mates. Do I have to execute everyone working in the Citadel who's not a Time Lord? Will that be enough for you, or do I have to commit genocide and go after every single human on Gallifrey before you think we're safe?" 

"How many people have to die, before your blood lust is satisfied?" The Doctor snaps, words gritting through her teeth as she meets the Rani's stare with a cold smile. 

The Rani bites into her bottom lip until she can taste blood, forced to concede the argument. She sits, crossing her legs with an unhappy frown. The Doctor has plenty of weaknesses - her lack of foresight and short attention-span come to mind - but challenging her to a public debate was a poorly planned decision on her part. The woman can twists words to her advantage with disconcerting ease. 

She would win next time, the Rani swears to herself. She ignores a few pair of eyes lingering in her direction, her own gaze glued forwards to watch the Doctor inhale sharply and throw a disgruntled look around the room. 

"Questions?" She allows a few seconds of stunned silence to tick by, before speaking again. "Good. We're done." 

Coat flapping behind her, the Doctor turns on her heels and crosses through the audience, striding to the backroom. She ignores Ryan's attempt to intercept her, pulling the door closed behind her as she stands and forces deep breaths through her lungs. 

Every time she comes to terms with her position as Lord-President - or as a regular Time Lord, back in the days - she's reminded of her people's disregard for life, of their cruel, selfish philosophy. The memory stirs a familiar restlessness in her head, an urge to run as far away as Gallifrey as possible, and to never come back. 

"Doctor?" 

With a sharp intake of breath, the Doctor squares her shoulders and raises her head, meeting identical, shiny eyes glued in her direction. She blinks, shoving away the self-depreciating fog slowing her thoughts until she recognizes the people facing her. 

"Yaz's mum." She sighs, nodding in Sonya's direction.

***************

"Whatever is going on in there isn't my fault." Ryan justifies himself when he notices Yaz's slow approach of the back room. 

"What are you talking about?" She frowns distractedly, still watching over the crowd trickling through the furthest entrance. 

Gazes cast towards the ground, a majority of Time Lords seem tentative, almost reluctant to stand from their seats. The silence sneaking in every corner of the shared space leaves Yaz baffled, as she wonders if maybe, _maybe_ \- if they're lucky - the Doctor's stubbornness about moral principles is starting to pay off. 

"Your sister heard about the announcement this morning. She thought it might have something to do with Najia, so we went and g..."

Guessing how Ryan's story ends, dark pupils grow wide as Yaz scrambles into the back room. She steps inside and meets Najia's nervous eyes with a wary, gauging look. The older woman is wringing her hands together, ignoring Sonya's shaky intakes of breath. 

The strained atmosphere coaxes Yaz closer to the Doctor. She's facing her back, but the tension coiled in her posture is noticeable. It's the same tension that often comes as aftermath of her wife's most grueling days of work. 

After months of trial and errors - and a few evenings spent snapping at each other - Yaz knows the best course of action to deal with the woman's mix of bone-deep fatigue and loathing for the people she belongs to. She lays a careful hand on the back of the Doctor's neck, fingers splayed through tousled curls. 

The Doctor jumps, the muscles pulling taut under Yaz's fingers earning her a faint hum. 

"It's me." She whispers, brushing her lips against the Doctor's ear as the blond sinks against her side, drained. 

"Hi." The Doctor matches her tone, forehead falling against a nearby shoulder. 

Forcing herself to ignore the instinct that tickles at the back of her mind, Yaz raises her eyes to her mum and sister. "Why are you here?" She asks cautiously, saddened by the burst of dread that colors her thoughts as soon as Najia's mouth opens for a reply. 

"Sonya told me the announcement might be about... About what happened." 

Aware of the Doctor's exhaustion, Yaz bites back the bitter response about to fall from her lips. Fighting can wait. "Well, it was. Why are you still here?"

Najia swallows, aware of the hardened edge in her oldest daughter's voice. "It wasn't your decision, was it?" 

"I would have sent you home." Yaz answers honestly, with a one-shouldered shrug. She feels the Doctor's attention perk up, glancing down to meet intrigued emerald irises. "But I'm not..." Trailing off, she sighs. "I'm glad you're staying. It's safer for you, and for dad and Sonya."

Yaz notices her mother's small smile in silent answer, and she forces herself to remember her latest conversation with the Doctor. Najia's actions were guided by love and misplaced worry, not by some sort of hidden streak of cruelty. "And maybe we can talk soon." She adds, feeling a reassuring touch circle her elbow in support. 

"I'd like that." Najia agrees quietly. "Maybe you could join us." She offers, shifting her gaze to the Doctor's tension-filled features. 

The distracted nod thrown the older woman's way triggers a nervous flip of her stomach, and she does her best to ignore the reaction. If she wants to mend her relationship with Yaz, the older woman has to make peace with her wife. 

It might be easier than she thought, Najia acknowledges silently, after the poignant speech she witnessed. The Time Lord didn't have to stand up for her like she did, not when resentment is still burning in her oldest daughter's dark pupils, bright and fiery. 

Sparing a grateful thought for the Doctor and her surprising sense of empathy, Najia gently pulls Sonya to the door. "I have work to do, we need to go."

Sonya resists the tug, stepping forwards to face the Doctor whose limbs are still wrapped loosely around Yaz. "Erm..." She starts clumsily and clears her throat. "I don't know what I was expected you to do, but..." Swallowing, she holds a puzzled hazel stare. "Thank you, for saving my mum from them." 

The Doctor nods, caught off-guard by the trembling undertone in Sonya's voice. Scrambling for a reply, she lets out a relieved sigh when the other woman's usual slow-spreading smirk returns. 

"Don't think I'm going to start being nice to you."

"Can you not d..." Yaz complains, rolling her eyes. 

"I'm your sister." Sonya shrugs, backing to the entrance to join her mum in the hallway. "It's in my job description." 

"Wait until I start threatening Ryan." 

"He's already terrified of you, go ahead." She chuckles, pulling the door closed behind her back.

***************

Yaz breathes a sigh through her nose, still frowning after being left alone with her wife.

"It's fine." The Doctor interrupts Yaz’s plot to get revenge against Sonya, a hint of amusement coloring her voice. "I like your sister. She's feisty."

"Fe..." Yaz echoes, shaking her head. "She's annoying, that's what she is." 

The Doctor hums, low in her throat. "Can be both, I suppose." She responds absentmindedly, focused on the way the tip of Yaz's fingers trail up her neck.

The younger woman adjusts their position, drawing the Doctor in a proper hug. She freezes when the blond slumps in the embrace, nose buried in her hair and the arms slung around her waist squeezing her closer. 

"I'm so tired."

The words are whispered against Yaz's skin, cold lips brushing against her throat. She swallows, touch shifting to the Doctor’s back where she traces wide, regular circles. The tension straining the muscles underneath her fingertips eases, with a softer, more content sigh. 

"I know." Yaz whispers, a knot of sympathetic weariness tight in her stomach. 

"They never listen to me. No matter what I do, how many times I try to tell them there's another way to solve problems that doesn't involve war, or death, or violence, they just..." The Doctor huffs. "It's useless. I don't know why I bother." 

"You bother..." Yaz repeats, scratching her nails down her wife's spine. "Because you care about ordinary people. People who go on about their day, work in the city or in the fields, and come home to their family without even thinking about Time Lords. You care about children, who should be allowed to grow up without being threatened by military training." 

"There are billion of innocent Gallifreyans who have no idea what's happening in the Citadel, and couldn't care less about your people. They deserve better than being forced into war every other year.” Yaz continues, catching the way the Doctor stills against her. "They need your help. That's why you bother." 

"Very good speech, Yaz." The Doctor's voice wobbles after a handful of quiet seconds, a hint of playfulness piercing through the exhausted words. "Gold star for you." 

She snickers, dipping her head to press their matching half-smiles together. The Doctor sinks into the contact with a pleased purr, her fingers clutched into Yaz's buttoned-up shirt. 

"And you don't have to do everything by yourself. You never talk about what happens in your High Council meetings." 

The Doctor shrugs. "Didn't think you'd be interested."

Yaz scowls her features, fighting a first instinct to wince. The Doctor is right. The complicated politics of Gallifrey always turn her eyelids heavy, leaving her bored by the childish conflicts that drive the inner working of an entire planet. She squares her shoulders, hooking her thumb under the blond's chin to make eye contact. 

"I'm not." She confesses honestly, mustering a smile. "I hate politics. But if you need my help, or just want to talk, or..." Words trickling off, Yaz ignores the instinct at the back of her mind reminding her that she probably isn't the best person to help her wife carry the heavy burden of her job. 

"Thank you." The Doctor states softly, eyebrows knitted together. "I'm not very good at sharing stuff, it doesn't mean you're not helping." She sniffles, burrowing deeper into Yaz's neck when the noise catches her attention. "Couldn't do this without you." 

"Are you crying?" She asks with a slow frown. 

The Doctor scoffs, squeezing her eyes shut. "I don't cry, don't know what you're talking about.” 

"Doctor." Yaz counters, fingers drumming along the top of her shoulders. 

"Maybe a bit." She sniffles again and blows out an exasperated sigh that leaves a trail of goosebumps down the column of Yaz's throat. "Rough few days." 

Stifling her long-horned problem- solving skills, - there's nothing to fix, only support to be offered - the dark haired woman settles her chin on the Doctor's head. "It's fine." She whispers, eyelids fluttering. "You're allowed a cry." 

"Don't tell Missy." The Doctor pleads, bottom lip jutted in a pout Yaz can practically _hear_. 

"Your secret is safe, promise." Yaz chuckles, shifting to rest her cheek on blond hair. The Doctor hums and closes her eyes to enjoy a fleeting moment of peaceful contentment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the support, and apology for any typos, I’m posting from my phone today!


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I marked this story as complete but it’s not really complete... See the end note for more details. 
> 
> Meanwhile, here’s the fluffiest 3K words I’ve ever written :-D

Yaz inhales shakily, flattening invisible wrinkles on her dress. She checks the table one last time, tinkering with the bottle of wine laying between two empty plates. Before she can overthink her choice of drink, a key slides into a lock, freezing her thoughts. 

"You were right!" The Doctor announces, grumpily. "I should have listened to you, she's driving me ma..." 

Breath catching in her throat, hazel irises grow wide when the Time Lord takes in the formal dinner waiting for her. She blinks, wondering what the special occasion is, before she turns her head to ask Yaz. 

And turns speechless, jaw falling opened. 

Yaz’s deep blue dress is tight around her middle, hugging her upper body and draping over her back to leave her right shoulder bare. The smooth, dark skin draws the Doctor closer, her fingers ghosting along Yaz’s collarbone. 

Goosebumps litter the younger woman's arms in answer, as she raises to her tiptoes and nuzzles the Doctor’s jawline up to her throat, lips grazing the space where a double heartbeat thrums. 

Charmed by the Doctor’s dazed response to her choice of clothing, Yaz smiles against the racing pulse. The choked out whimper she earns when she sucks the tempting skin between her teeth sends an electric shiver down her spine, and she wonders if she’ll ever grow tired of that now-familiar noise. 

Probably not, Yaz acknowledges, while deft fingers toy with the strings tying her dress. A picture of her wife tugging the clasp loose flashes through her mind, as she imagines the silky material pooled at her feet, and a familiar, reverent touch caressing every inch of revealed skin. 

With a sharp intake of breath, Yaz forces herself to put the tiniest hint of distance between them, snapped out of her head as she ignores the pounding of her heart against her ribs. 

"I didn't spend the afternoon listening to Graham going on about food to burn dinner." She states firmly, weakened legs slowing her steps towards the oven. 

Before she can reach the kitchen, hands sneak around her waist and settle on her stomach. The Doctor's lips trace the edge of Yaz's right shoulder, kissing up the side of her neck until she can nibble her earlobe, nose purposely touching the sensitive patch of skin near her hairline. 

"Now, that's just..." Yaz chokes out, clutching the Doctor's arm when her knees turn wobbly. "Ah, playing dirty. Stop it." 

The Doctor hums, teeth grazing behind her wife's ear. She feels Yaz's grip tightens into her sweater and she allows the smirk twitching at the corner of her mouth to spread. "Sure you want me to stop?" She whispers. 

"Yes!" Yaz insists, the rational voice at the back of her mind growing stronger with the playful smile staring back at her. The Doctor breathes out quietly, a warm puff of air falling on Yaz’s neck, in an intimate sensation that sends another shiver down her spine. 

"You're no fun." The blond sighs, tipping her head back to hold blown-out, dark pupils. 

Yaz rolls her eyes and forces herself to ignore the Doctor's parted lips and messy hair. "Get changed, I'll take the food out of the oven." She instructs with the hint of a smile at the Time Lord's mock salute. Watching her retreat to the bedroom, she can't resist the opportunity for teasing. "Doctor?" 

The other woman looks back over her shoulder, raising a questioning eyebrow.

"I'll show you fun." Yaz fights back a grin when she notices a hopeful spark brightening hazel irises. "After dinner." She clarifies, failing to muffle a burst of laughter when the Doctor's face falls in disappointment. 

"Ha ha. Hilarious." She fires back, a touch of amusement slipping into her voice to soften the words. 

Pulling the bedroom's door closed behind her, the Doctor pads to the closet and gauges the wide variety of clothes hung in the narrow space. She scrunches her nose, not quite happy with the choices offe...

A slow spreading smirk interrupts her train of thoughts, as she spots a particular piece of clothing. 

_Two can play at this game, Yasmin Khan._

***************

Yaz bites her lip as she settles the warm dish on the counter - the O'Brian traditional roast, Graham deemed it - overlooking the table one last time. 

Satisfied with the result of her efforts, she starts rummaging through the cupboards to find the box of matches she swears she saw last w... 

Ah. 

Grinning in satisfaction, Yaz grabs the box and rubs the tip of a match against the rough surface of the table, raising her hand to a nearby candle.

Brown eyes dart up when a door creaks opened, leaving Yaz's brain reeling as she takes in the Doctor's new outfit. She was expecting her wife's favorite suit - which looks amazing, despite the woman's horrendous taste in bow-ties - or the formal clothes she wears in semi-official events. 

Instead, she's greeted by the Doctor clad in a new, dark blue waistcoat that matches navy trousers and hugs her upper body in a way that leaves Yaz's mouth dry. 

Before she can gather her thoughts, a spark of light catches the younger woman's attention, and she scrambles to smother a still-burning match before the flame can reach her skin. 

The Doctor snickers, and Yaz scowls her features in a more dignified expression. "That..." She clears her throat, annoyed by her own breathlessness. "Is that new? Never seen you wear that before."

"Hm." The Time Lord prowls closer and balances her weight on the tip of her toes. "You like it?" She asks, brash grin clinging to her lips. 

That won't do, decides Yaz, hands fisting into the collar of the waistcoat to tug the Doctor's head down. She pushes their mouths together, in a fiery kiss that leaves them both gasping for air. 

"You know I do." Yaz whispers when they separate, her forehead resting against the Doctor's. 

"Well, I do look good." She swallows heavily. "Wouldn't mind you showing me how much you like it again."

The comment breaks the tension, Yaz playfully shoving the blond away. "Shut up and bring the bread. It's on the counter." 

"Yes, boss." She teases, winking as she twirls on her heels. 

Long minutes tick by in companionable silence, while Yaz and the Doctor dig into the warm meal. The Time Lord hums in satisfaction, raising a thumb in quiet approval of the tasty dinner. Yaz chuckles, reaches with her own hand and tangles their fingers together to rest their joined palms on the table. 

"What were you complaining about?" Yaz remembers, nursing a glass of wine once both plates are empty. "When you came in?" 

The Doctor rolls her eyes, downing the last sip as she grabs the bottle to refill her cup. "Missy spent the day going on about the decree to change army recruitment rules." She raises her voice, a poor imitation of her friend's higher pitched tone. "I hope you don't expect me to join the army if there aren't enough little people, Doctor." 

Running a hand down her face, the older woman raises a disgruntled gaze towards Yaz. "As if I didn't think about that." 

"About what happens if we run out of soldiers?" The Doctor nods, prompting an intrigued head tilt from her wife. "What's your solution?" 

"Don't have one." She scrunches her nose. "But I'm done forcing people to send their children to the army. They should be playing with roentgen bricks, not learning how to handle weapons." 

"Playing with what?" Yaz frowns, confused. 

"You know, the radiation toy?" The Doctor slowly matches her expression. "Don't humans play with that?"

"The radia..." Yaz echoes, eyes growing wide. "We tend to stick to toys that won't kill us, Doctor." 

She shrugs. "You missed out." The flicker of a candle catches hazel pupils, bringing the Doctor's attention back to the meticulous setup of the table. "Got distracted, but what's the occasion?" 

"Maybe I decided it was date night." Yaz deadpans, drawing a doubtful raised eyebrow from the Doctor. She gulps, stifling the nervous flutter twirling in her stomach as she reaches into the pocket of her dress. 

"Pockets!" The Doctor notices, with a grin. "Your dress has pockets, that's brilliant." 

Yaz chuckles, the tension coiled in her shoulders easing a touch as she fetches an envelope and places it in front of her plate. "I was cleaning through my closet yesterday, and I found this." 

The Doctor grabs the folded paper, fingers hovering shy of the sheet until Yaz gives a nod of consent. Blowing a strand of blond hair falling into her eyes, she scans the first few lines of what seems to be a letter. 

She recognizes Yaz's neat handwriting immediately, hearts racing as she takes in the message. "Hold on, where are you goi..."

"I'm not leaving." The dark haired woman's eyes widen as she lays a reassuring hand on the Doctor's forearm. "Sorry, I should have said." She cringes, remembering the goodbye letter she once spent hours pouring her soul into. "It's old, I..." 

Sparing a second to settle the anxious flow of her thoughts, Yaz meets a nervously waiting emerald gaze. "I wrote this when I first came here. The day before I tried to run away, I was trying to decide what I wanted to tell my parents." She motions to the paper clutched between the Doctor's fingers. "I wrote them a letter, hid it in my room, and made my escape." 

Running the tip of her tongue over her bottom lip, Yaz remembers what feels like a much younger version of herself, alternatively crying and scrambling for words that desperately escaped her. 

The Doctor nods, eyes falling back to the message with a bittersweet taste in her mouth. She knows she'll never make complete peace with the way Yaz was wrenched from her home, but she's too grateful for her wife's decision to stick around to overthink the circumstances that led to their first meeting. 

"Hey." Yaz interrupts the Doctor's musings, tugging against her sleeve. "Look at the date." She gently redirects, following a vague hunch about where the Time Lord's thoughts drifted to. 

The Doctor scans the letter, frowning at the set of numbers at the bottom of the page. "That's..."

"A year ago, yesterday." Yaz clarifies, with a shrug she hopes can pass as casual. "We got married the next day." 

Hazel pupils grow wide in slow understanding. "So it's..."

"Our anniversary." Yaz confirms. "Today." The Doctor breathes out a quiet gasp, earning a fond smile from her wife. "Wait, I have something for you." Her grin widens, fingers slipping back into her pocket. 

The Doctor follows the movement mutely, struggling to get a grip on the poignant mix of emotions - gratefulness, joy and genuine shock - warming her hearts. 

"There you go." Yaz offers, sliding a small black box in front of the Doctor. Emerald eyes dart between the gift and her wife's candlelit features, until the younger woman gently nudges her arm. 

"A gift! I love gifts. What's in the box?" 

"Open it." Yaz laughs, charmed by the dazzling grin she earns in reply. 

The Doctor makes quick work of the lid, jaw falling slack when she opens the box to find a pair of rainbow cuff-links nestled against black velvet. She blinks, glancing back at Yaz in quiet amazement. 

Yaz's eyebrows knit together, confused by the sudden silence. "You... Do you like them?" 

"You know, it's been a long time since I got a gift." She pauses, searching her memory for the last time it happened. Flashes of two clumsy teenagers sharing a dorm room at the academy emerges from a distant part of her brain, until the Doctor shakes her head and snaps back to her puzzled wife. "But I'm fairly sure this is the best gift _ever_." 

Yaz sighs, letting go of the breath she never realized she was holding. "Yeah?" 

"Yes!" The Doctor nods emphatically. "I love them. Thank you." She whispers, dipping her head to press a kiss to Yaz's lips. She lingers, tongue grazing the roof of her mouth in slow exploration until the dark haired woman pulls back, breathless. 

Foreheads resting together, the Doctor hesitates with an unhappy scrunch of her nose. "I didn't get you anything." She says, eyes flickering between the colorful cuff links resting on the table and Yaz's chestnut pupils. 

"It's fine." Yaz waves away the concern. "I didn't remember until I found the letter, I wasn't expecting anyth..." 

"Give me a minute." The blond interrupts, ideas rushing through her brain. "I'll make it up to you." 

Yaz snickers, squeezing the digits woven with her own. "Don't worry about it." 

The Doctor musters a smile, when she feels her thoughts click in the back of her head. Her unoccupied hand drifts to the side of her thigh in a faint movement, meeting the cold metal of the Sonic. She snaps her fingers, eyes growing wide. "I know!" 

"Just wait." The Doctor adds, kicking her chair back and pointing her screwdriver to an empty corner of the room, tongue peeking from her teeth in concentration. 

Seconds later, Yaz's lips part on a muted gasp, as the blurry silhouette of a police box becomes clearer in front of her eyes. "Did you just... You made the TARDIS appear!" She exclaims, fingers clutched around the Doctor's nearest forearm. "That's impossible, how did you..." Shaking her head, Yaz lets out an incredulous chuckle. 

"Come on." The Time Lord ignores the question, slipping her key into the lock and holding the blue door opened for Yaz, motioning the younger woman forwards. "I'm done tinkering with it." She pauses, frowning. "Well, I say done. For now." 

"I know." Yaz laughs, dropping a kiss to her wife's cheek on her way inside the ship. "You wouldn't want your TARDIS to get lonel..." 

The gentle teasing morphs into another faint gasp, as she takes in the newly added details to the interior. 

The practical, - if a little cold - narrow staircase is gone, leaving place to a set of hexagonal, glowing stairs that lead to a metallic door. There's a table and what looks like a work bench scattered around the lowest level of the control room. 

A flash of bright light catches Yaz's attention, her gaze trailing closer to the floor as she spots Gallifreyan characters engraved on the platform under the console. "What does it say?" She prompts, the tip of her fingers warmed by the bright circles. 

"Never be cruel, or cowardly. Don't give up, and don't give in." The Doctor responds quietly from her spot, leaning against an orange pillar with a pensive smile on her lips. "Long story." The wistful tone draws her wife back to her side.

"I liked what you did with it befo..." A loud, wheezing sound grumbles through the ceiling, traveling into the floor. Yaz rolls her eyes, amused. Of course the Doctor would bound with a sensitive TARDIS. "With _her_ before, but this is..." She shakes her head. "Wow. Your ship is amazing."

The Time Lord gulps, growing nervous under the dark haired woman's attention, as restless fingers toy with the edge of her sleeve. 

"What?" 

"I know I said it was mine." The Doctor starts, pushing herself away from the side of the room. "But, erm..." Closing her eyes to steady herself, she sighs. "Well, I've been working on something. As a gift. To you." She adds, balancing her weight on the heels of her boots. 

Yaz frowns, confused. "What do you mean?" 

The Doctor holds a hand up, kneeling on the floor to reveal the trap door Yaz spent so long searching through, a year ago. Making quick work of the screws, she leaves the space below deck exposed. 

Yaz shuffles closer when the Doctor looks pointedly to the floor, glancing into the trap door. "What am I looking at?" 

"The recall circuit." 

"Yes." She agrees, a little smile playing at the corner of her mouth. "I remember that par..."

"It's deactivated." 

Yaz gasps, crouching to level the blond with a stunned gaze. "What are you s..."

"You can leave. Go anywhere. Everywhere." The Doctor fumbles, reaching out with a shaky palm to cup Yaz's cheek. "And no one can track you. You'd be free." 

Her gaze flickering between broken wires and guarded, green-brown eyes, Yaz prods gently. "What about you?" 

"Well..." The Doctor hesitates, caught between her duty and a deeply buried desire to explore the universe. "I'd come with you, ideally. But I'd understand if you need time alone. Can't really forget about Gallifrey, if I go with you." 

"You realize..." Yaz starts, biting her lip. "The only tempting part about that offer is having you to myself for a while?"

"Y..." The Doctor stutters, dazed. "Really?" 

"Yes, you idiot." Yaz softens the word, turning her head to press her lips to the Doctor's wrist. "I’m happy we can travel without being tracked, and I would be happier without all the political plotting in my life, - in our life - but I love teaching. I love my friends, I love my family." She pauses, grinning. "I love you." 

"That's good." With a quiet chuckle, the Doctor gently shakes her hands free. "Brilliant, really. It's going to make the next part much easier." 

"The next par..." 

The Doctor stands, prompting the other woman to do the same as she dusts her trousers off. She forces a deep breath into her lungs and steps into Yaz's space, on the other side of the trap door. 

Gulping, she spares a second to lose herself in chestnut pupils that seem to glow in the dimmed lighting of the room, before dropping to one knee. 

"'Marry me." The Doctor whispers, looking up with a wobbly grin. "Please?" 

Yaz gasps, losing her breath. "I... What?" She blinks slowly, struggling to kick-start her brain. "Doctor, we're already mar..."

"Not like that." She interrupts with a vehement shake of her head. "I don't... I know we're married." The Doctor corrects, chuckling. "Promise I was listening when you said it’s our anniversary. But what we did wasn't like you do it, back home." 

"Back home." Yaz repeats tentatively. "You mean in Arcadia." 

"Yes!" The Doctor huffs, exhaling through her nose. "Sorry, I don't think I'm very good at this. Lots of words, and not enough time to think thr..." 

"You're doing great." Yaz cuts off the apology, kneeling to face the Doctor. She reaches out to grab her shoulders, pulling her wife forwards until their foreheads are touching. "It's just me, you don't have to be scared." 

"Right. Just the most important person in my life." The Doctor deadpans, the tension in her spine easing with the familiar, ghost sensation of Yaz's breath warming her lips. "Did you ever dream of getting married, when you were little?" 

"Once or twice." Yaz smiles and remembers a teenager version of herself being dragged to weddings by her parents. She never enjoyed the fuss or the dress code, but the obvious bound between spouses always had her wishing she had that sort of connection with someone. 

The Doctor raises a quiet, skeptical eyebrow. If there’s one thing she noticed about Yaz in the last few months, it’s the woman’s deeply hidden - almost shy - romantic streak. 

It’s hard to notice, but between meaningful gifts and the occasional meticulously-planned dates, the Doctor feels privileged to witness that side of the practical woman. Each moment seems precious, and fleeting, and colored with Yaz’s growing trust in her. 

The Doctor nods to herself, the memory of rainbow cuff links fresh in her mind. “Feels like it would be more than that."

Yaz sighs as she battles the flush slowly warming her cheeks. “Maybe.” She reluctantly admits, gnawing at her bottom lip. 

“Then it’s not fair.” 

The Doctor’s firm statement intrigues Yaz. “What do you mean?”

“I didn’t think about marriage once, before I became Lord-President. Didn’t want to have someone constantly with me.”

Yaz nods, nonplussed. 

“But we followed my people’s traditions, for our wedding. You deserve more than that.” The Doctor’s voice drops back to a whisper. “You deserve the wedding you used to dream of. And I want to...” She pauses and swallows audibly. “Give it to you. So, Yasmin Khan, will you marry me _again_?”

“Yes.” Yaz breathes out, barely allowing the Doctor to word the question. “Of course I will.”

“Oh, good. Don’t have a ring though, I didn’t really think this through.” She scratches the back of her neck, blowing a strand of hair away from her eyes. “But I always wanted to propose to you. Didn’t get to do it properly the first time.” The Doctor pauses to consider her own statement. “Wait, does it make you my fiancée now? Or still my wife? Can you be both at the s...”

“Doctor.”

Yaz interrupts, and when the Time Lord snaps out of her musings, the dark haired woman is kneeling closer her. She shifts her touch, fingers lacing behind the Doctor’s neck and toying with short blond curls. 

“Ah, yes?”

“How about you kiss me, and we figure it out later?”

The Doctor grins, dipping her head. “Yasmin Khan.” She starts, her warm breath teasingly falling against Yaz’s lips as they stand still, nose to nose. “You speak my language.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I marked this story as complete for two reasons. One because I think it’s a good point to pause it, since it’s the end of what I had planned when I started off in December (aka, 10 years ago). 
> 
> And two because I need a break to plan what’s next! There will be an epilogue for sure, but I kind of want to keep going and write their trip to Arcadia. I can see another 5-7 chapters, and I’d like to know if anyone would be interested in reading that much. 
> 
> Please leave a comment, if you have the time! It would be very helpful :-D


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m back with a new update :-D! This chapter is a warm up I did while I was struggling to find the characters' voices (I don't usually stop writing for so long). 
> 
> It's mostly mindless fun, but I figured it was a good slow start to the second arc :-). The story will pick up a little more next week.

Yaz gnaws at her bottom lip, wracking her brain to remember what she already shared with Gabriela. "Did I tell you about Anzor? He has a kn..."

"Knee injury." The younger woman completes, muffling a sigh. "And Neeloc has a coordination problem, Drax is new and I need to keep an eye on him." She pauses, gauging Yaz's tight smile patiently. "I think we've covered everything, Yaz. We don't work together often, but I do know what I'm doing." 

"Yes." Yaz nods to herself, fastening her backpack closed as she scans her office. 

Her desk is empty, the couple of personal trinkets usually laying on the dark wood surface tucked away in the front pocket of her bag. Most of her tidied up paperwork has been placed in a folder that's now clutched in Gabriela's left hand, and she breathes a quiet sigh as she realizes her work is done. Her class will be in Gabriela's hands for the next few weeks. 

Yaz hits the light switch and leads the way out of the room, locking the door behind her back. "You're right. I trust you, I j..."

"You love the kids." Gabriela shrugs. "I get the same way when I have to leave. You have a good reason though." She adds playfully, laughing at the faint flush that colors her workmate's cheeks. 

Yaz grins, scratching the back of her neck. "I know. I'm not compl..."

"There you are!" A chiding voice interrupts the conversation from the other end of the hallway. 

Chestnut eyes grow wide when Yaz raises her head to see the school's principle standing in front of the entrance, fists on her hips. "You'll do great." She whispers in quick parting, as Gabriela walk away with a snickered reply - "I know!" - leaving her to make her way to Grace. 

"Hi." Yaz is squeezed into a hug, smiling in her friend's hearty embrace. "I'll miss you." 

"Yasmin Khan, you could have told me why you were only taking time off. I thought we were losing you for good." 

"What?" Yaz frowns, shuffling back in confusion. "What do you mean?" 

"God knows Time Lords need help, I thought you were going into politics." She tilts her head, grinning. "It wouldn't suit you." 

"It wouldn't." Yaz grimaces in agreement as she remembers the scarce occasions she talked with Grace over the last few weeks. Her friend’s promotion as head of school district leaves the woman with few free hours to spare. "You know I can't stand them." 

"Hm." Dark pupils twinkle in amusement. "Says the woman getting married to a Time Lord... Or re-married, I should say." 

"Stop." Yaz sighs in a low-pitched voice, disappointed. "We were trying to keep it quiet." 

"Quiet." Grace echoes with a doubtful raised eyebrow. "In this city?" 

"Yeah, well..." She trails off. "It didn't work very well, did it? I'm hoping the news didn't make it back to Arcadia." 

"You're leaving today?" Grace prompts, her voice lilting in question. 

"Yeah, I'm dropping this." Yaz motions to the satchel tucked under her arm. "At home, and we're leaving."

"Then I wouldn't worry too much about Arcadia. I don't think it has spread through the Citadel yet. I know because I keep an eye on rumors about my staff." Grace clarifies, crossing her arms protectively.

"Gabriela knew." Yaz objects, with a thankful squeeze of the older woman's shoulder. 

"Of course she does. She's Gabriela." Grace chuckles, rolling her eyes before a playful spark returns to her pupils. "Off with you, Yaz. I won't be the one keeping you away from domestic bliss." 

"Ah, it's not... I..." Yaz clears her throat, warmth flooding her face again. "Good idea. I'm leaving. See you in a few weeks." 

"We'll be waiting." Grace nods, leaning against the doorway with a wistful grin to watch her favorite teacher saunter down the stairs leading to busy streets. 

***************

Duffel bag tucked under the bed, Yaz changes into a pair of warm leggings and a soft, star-littered jumper, before tying up her pair of favorite boots. She runs a hand through her hair and reviews her mental checklist as she leaves the quarters she shares with the Doctor, locking the door behind her and heading down the hallway. 

Their luggage should be boarded on the plane already, - thanks to a lot of patience and gentle coaxing on Yaz's part, convincing the Doctor to pack a full day before their departure was _not_ easy - her class is in safe hands, and her family left for Arcadia a few days earlier. 

_All done._ Yaz sighs to herself, finally allowing the week-old tension knotting her shoulders to ease a touch. 

"Yaz!" 

Head snapping up at her wife's - or fiancée's, their situation is a bit confusing - voice, Yaz slows her steps when she passes by the audience room. Peeking inside, she blinks when she finds the Doctor in conversation with an older, pale haired woman. 

Meeting hazel eyes with an intrigued frown, Yaz stills when she's beckoned closer by a cheerful grin. Helpless, she returns the smile and pads to the Doctor's side. 

"Yaz, this is Romana." The Time Lord introduces, tilting her head towards the stranger. "Romana, I'm sure you've heard o..."

The woman interrupts, eyebrows knitted. "It's Romanadvoratrelundar."

"I don't know how you expect me to remember that." The Doctor wrinkles her nose, with a shrug. "Romana will be in charge while we're away." She explains, to a bewildered Yaz. 

"I said, that’s not my name." The blond interjects again, frown deepening. 

"Yes, you did. But I didn't listen." The Time Lord shrugs, mustering a polite smile before she turns her attention to Yaz. "Not expecting much trouble, but R..."

"Romanadvoratrelundar." The older woman anticipates, a satisfied smirk twitching at the corner of her mouth. 

The Doctor pauses, purses her lips and ponders the reply. "Just out of curiosity. Did you pick that name, or did you lose a bet?" 

"Doctor!" Yaz interrupts, pinching the bridge of her nose. 

The Doctor sighs, lowering her voice as she sidles closer. "It was rude, wasn’t it?" She asks, dipping her head. 

"Little bit, yeah." 

"Oh." Another scrunch of the Doctor's nose, as she faces Romana. "Sorry. But we can choose our own names. Why would anyone go with Romanadvorlundar?" 

"I didn't. My name is Romanadvoratrelundar." The newcomer corrects, unfazed. 

"You're just proving my point now. Don't you have a nickname?" The Doctor wonders, scoffing. 

"Call me Fred." Romana deadpans, a twinkle in her eyes. "It will do." 

"Now that's ridiculous, how did you come up with _Fred_?" The Doctor repeats with a snicker. "I'm calling you Romana, and y..."

"And we're leaving. I'm sure you already covered everything important." Yaz cuts into the conversation, barely noticing the Doctor's nod before she firmly grips her forearm and tugs her towards the entrance of the room. "Good luck, Romanadva..." She calls out, interrupting herself with a frown. "Fred." 

"I don't like it." The Doctor complains, as they climb stairs leading to the castle's gates, unhappy. "It's the worst nickname ever. Fred! It's a good name for a dog, or a cat. Or a raccoon. Not a Time Lady." 

"Maybe you should ask her to wear a name tag with her real name then." Yaz teases, sliding her palm down the blond's arm to lace their fingers together.

"Yaz!" The Doctor objects, pulling on their joined hands. "You're stealing my jokes." 

"Maybe." The younger woman grins, leaning closer when the Doctor's arm slings over her shoulders.

Something shifted between them, in how openly the Time Lord displays affection, since she proposed to Yaz. Casual touches have been part of their relationship for a long time, but there used to be an invisible line the Doctor wouldn't cross in public, a limit set between friendly and more meaningful gesture the woman would carefully steer away from. 

Not anymore, Yaz reminds herself, when a lingering kiss is brushed against her temple. 

"You're thinking too hard." The Doctor complains, voice pitched low. 

"Just wondering what that was about." She excuses, the warm flush that colors her cheeks not escaping the Doctor's attention. "Why do we need someone in charge? We'll only be gone for a few weeks." 

"You know me, love being prepared." The Time Lord shrugs, blowing out a long breath when Yaz raises a doubtful eyebrow in silent answer. "It's true!" She insists, before clarifying her thoughts. "And I need someone to keep an eye on Missy."

Yaz winces, conceding the point. "Who's she? I never heard of her before."

"Romana was Rassilon's consort." Noticing dark eyes growing wide in concern, the Doctor continues. "She kept him in check for the longest time, he had to name her Gallifreyan Ambassador in the Hoag galaxy to get rid of her. She left, and he turned into a mad man." 

"Are you sure she can handle being in charge?" Yaz asks tentatively. "What if she listens to Missy?" 

The Doctor snorts, swinging their hands in the narrow gap between them. "Trust me, Romana will be fine. We used to work together." 

"Really?" 

"Yeah, were in charge of finding some artifact. A key. Never could find all the pieces." The Doctor remembers, fishing into long-buried memories. "It was a long time ago. What I'm saying is, if Romana can handle working with me, she can handle Missy."

Yaz hums, tilting her head. "Did you tell her about the drought in the fields?"

"Of course." The Doctor confirms with a nod. "We still have some time before it becomes urg..."

"And about the bridge that collapsed outside the city?" 

"Yes." The Doctor blinks, confused by the interruption. "She said she'll look into what ca..."

"What about the school that was supposed to be built last month? We need t..."

"She'll look into it too." The Doctor interjects this time, failing to catch Yaz's fleeting gaze. "You know, for someone who doesn't like politics..." She trails off with a playful grin. 

"That's not politics, it's helping people." Yaz elbows the taller woman softly, shaking her head. "Sorry. I don't know what's wrong. You should have heard me with Gabriela, I think I gave her the exact same speech about the kids every day for a week. I don't know how she didn't tell me to shut up." 

"Because she’s your friend." The Time Lord frowns, pulling Yaz to a stop behind a column in the hall. "Everything all right? You know we don't have to leave right n..."

"What?" Yaz interrupts, catching the hint of disappointment darkening the Doctor's pupils. "Of course we do." She throws her head back against cold marble, taking in her wife's concerned features. Reaching forwards with her thumb, Yaz smooths away the lines between her eyebrows. "I can't wait to marry you again." 

The Doctor blinks, charmed. "Yeah?" 

Yaz hums. "I want to show you where I grew up, and you can meet my friends." She adds with a stretching smile. 

"It's going to be fun." The Doctor agrees, returning the expression. "If you can stop worrying for two sec..." She teases. 

"Oh, shut up." Yaz laughs, playfully shoving her shoulders, before tangling her fingers in the baby curls behind the blond's neck, as she touches their foreheads together. "You should help, instead of making fun of me."

"You know me." The Doctor agrees and runs her hands down Yaz's sides, shifting her grip to the small of her back to press their grins together. "Can never refuse someone who needs help." 

The dark haired woman chuckles, brushing her lips against her wife's. "You can never refuse kissing me either." 

Inhaling through her nose, the Doctor sinks into the contact with a quiet hum. She loses herself to the soft, grounding feeling until the noise of a throat clearing springs them apart. 

Ryan stands in front of the two women, arms crossed behind his back and a satisfied smirk clinging to his lips. "There's a plane waiting for us, if you two can stop snogging each other long enough." 

Yaz groans, stepping passed her friend with the Doctor in toes. She mumbles a faint complaint, falling quiet when a familiar touch circles her wrist and shifts lower to weave their fingers together. 

"We'll get him back." The Doctor whispers under her breath, winking when Yaz looks back. "Promise." 

The younger woman laughs, a happy flutter in her stomach leaving her giddy with excitement. The Doctor is right. The next weeks are going to be fun. 

***************

Yaz fidgets with the heavy, metallic buckle that falls uncomfortably against her stomach. She glances through the plane's window, taking in the stretches of red sand bordering the runway. With a sharp intake of breath, she grips both armrest when the plane jostles forwards. 

The Doctor leans in, looking at the moving landscape around them. "Look!" She blurts, patting Yaz's forearm. "We can see the whole city from here."

"Yep." Yaz nods through gritted teeth. "I'm sure it's lovely." 

Sensing the coiled tension in the dark haired woman's limb, the Doctor's gaze drifts back. "Everything all right? You look a bit..." She clears her throat, scrambling for the right words. "Erm... Sick?" 

"It's my first time on a plane." Yaz mutters, closing her eyes with the feel of the aircraft picking up speed. "I'm not happy about having only a tiny piece of metal stand between us and death." 

"It’s not. It's a very sturdy mix of metal a..."

Yaz groans, giving another squeeze to the leather growing warm under her finger tips. "That's not really helping, Doctor." 

"Ah, yes." Emerald pupils widen. "Right. What can I do?" 

"Nothing." Yaz insures, shaking her head vehemently. "I'm fine."

The Doctor hesitates, elbow settled on the armrest separating them. She raises her arm and drops her chin on her fist in quiet observation. "You don't look fine."

Prying one eye opened for a split-second, Yaz glances to the side and sighs when she catches a glimpse of her wife's features softened in concern. Forcing a deep breath into her lungs, she blindly reaches for the hand the Doctor is using to drum against her own thigh. 

"All right." Yaz concedes and brushes her fingertips against her palm. "But don't complain if I crush your hands." 

"Of course not." The Doctor's fingers slip between Yaz's, squeezing softly to punctuate the reassurance. "Crush away."

Yaz chuckles. "You're weird."

"Hm, but you love it." 

Eyelids fluttering once more, Yaz dips her head until they're nose to nose. "Sometimes." She teases, pecking the Doctor's lips when she wrinkles her nose in silent contemplation of her reply. 

"Remind me again why we couldn't take the TARDIS." The dark haired woman wonders, eager to move the conversation away from the bickering competition she feels hanging over their head. 

"It's only a few hour-flight, she wouldn't allow it. She hates short jumps across a planet." The Doctor sighs. "I'll miss her." 

"You know..." Yaz starts, teeth digging into her bottom lip when the plane abruptly leaves the ground. "I know TARDISes are sentient, but did you have to get attached to a moody ship?" 

"Her mood is fine." The Time Lord frowns, thumb rubbing soothing circles across Yaz's knuckles. "Could be worse, we could have made the trip with your family." 

The argument lands in the still-rational corner of Yaz's brain, earning a faint murmur of approval. "I wonder if Sonya made it without throwing dad off the rover." 

"She probably didn't." The Doctor argues, frown deepening. "It's a whole week, Yaz. Your sister doesn't have the patience. Even Ryan didn't want to travel with them." She points out, motioning to the man sprawled over a seat on the other side of the aisle. 

When a hazel gaze falls back on the younger woman, the Doctor spots a trickle of blood dribbling down her mouth. Reaching forwards, she brushes the stain with her thumb, touch lingering until Yaz frees her lip from the grasp of her teeth. 

"You should have told me you were scared of flying." The Doctor whispers, tilting her head. 

"I didn't know." Yaz shrugs, glad to feel her heartbeat settle in her chest when the plane reaches a stable altitude. "I've never been on a plane before." 

"It's pretty boring." The blond shrugs, pointedly glancing around. "There's nothing to do." 

Yaz swallows, counting her breaths until the fearful mist slowing her thoughts fades away. Dark pupils flickering between the Doctor and Ryan's head that's lolling against the back of his seat, she decides to find a distraction from her own anxiety. 

"Do you still have that carry-on bag I gave you last night?" Yaz asks, voice dropped to a whisper as she leans closer. 

The Doctor nods, intrigued, before reaching down under her seat. "There." She holds it out until Yaz grabs the torn, grey piece of luggage. "Why?" 

"Because, I packed this." Yaz starts, fetching a bag of sugary treats from the back pocket. 

"Jelly babies!" The Time Lord enthuses, reaching for the snack. Her bottom lip juts when Yaz bats her hands away. 

"It's not for you." She shifts closer, leaning over the armrest. "Look at Ryan." 

"He's sleeping." The Doctor mutters, unhappy. "I don't think he's very hungry." 

Yaz blows out a long breath, exasperated. "I know that. Just sit and watch me work." She demands, grabbing a colorful candy and closing one eye to perfect her aim. She ignores the Doctor's mumbled protest and allows the object to fly over the aisle, smirking when it hit the side of Ryan's head. 

"Wh..." He jolts awake, trying to spring to his feet as the belt wrapped around his waist jerks him back. "I'm awake! Nobody moves." He blinks through a second of confusion, until he gets hit on the nose by another Jelly baby and notices the muffled burst of laughter coming from the other side of the aisle. 

"Oi!" Ryan protests again, when another treat pinches his left eyebrow. "What's wrong with you?" He frowns, throwing the last candy back Yaz's way. The Doctor shifts to the side and catches it between her teeth, smirking proudly as she chews. 

"Waste of a perfectly good snack." She explains, swallowing. "But you deserved it."

"What did I do?" 

"You keep teasing us." Yaz interjects, head peeking from over the Doctor's shoulder, who's nodding in approval. 

Ryan rolls his eyes, scratching the back of his neck. "Well, I'm awake now. Anyone up for a game?" He asks, reaching for the deck of cards he shoved into his pockets earlier. 

"I love games." The Doctor grins, wriggling on her seat. "Can we play Snap?" 

The question earns her an exasperated sigh from Ryan as he shuffles the cards, Yaz gently tapping against her side. "Maybe later. Poker?"

"Yes." Ryan agrees, wriggling his eyebrows. "Prepare to lose." 

"That's fine." The Time Lord shrugs, clutching her two first cards to her chest. "I have an excellent poker face." 

"We'll see..." Yaz teases, a smirk twitching at the corner of her mouth as she slings an arm over her wife's shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the support on the last chapter, every kudo or comment made my day! I'm aiming to update every week but I'm also working on a completely new fic at the same time, so we'll see what happens.


End file.
